


Dress you up in my love

by LucyStarkid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Blow Jobs, Designer Louis, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lawyer Harry, Liam Payne - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Niall Horan - Freeform, Nick Grimshaw - Freeform, Pining, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Sixty-nine, Smut, Sophia Smith - Freeform, Wall Sex, Well - Freeform, Zayn Malik - Freeform, a cat with a confusing number of names, a cute little neighbour called Millie, but oddly well matched, fashion Louis, harry & louis - Freeform, harry has been put off by people saying he is 'too much', i guess, it's only mentioned twice, learning how to put yourself out there, louis was cheated on in a previous relationship, their families feature too, they're different, this is a story about trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 103,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyStarkid/pseuds/LucyStarkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is single, and more than anything wants to find love. Agreeing to sign up to a dating website was a bad, bad idea. Niall's bad, bad idea. Louis is single, but has no interest in relationships. Or so he tells himself.   Harry is a lawyer whose boss, Nick, happens to give him a bonus, which he decides to splurge on a new work wardrobe. Louis is a frustrated designer, working as a personal shopper at Selfridges. Louis happens to be working on the day a very beautiful, but out of his depth, new customer ambles into their department in need of advice. Louis might have just found the muse he never knew he was looking for. </p><p>Featuring: Sophia as Louis' colleague, with a somewhat unhealthy obsession with his love life, whilst being oblivious when it comes to her own. Liam as the ‘IT bloke from downstairs’ with the mother of all crushes on Sophia. Niall as Harry's sport's writer flatmate who spends most of his time making Harry's life as complicated as possible. Zayn as Louis’ flatmate and lifelong best friend, whose cat, Noodle/Princess/Princess Noodle loves Louis more than it loves him. And Nick as Harry's boss and one of Louis' regular customers: is Imelda Marcos reborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thank you for coming to read my story - I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> I have to say a big thank you to @aslowmotionaccident @a-writerwrites and @hazandlouwho for being amazing betas. I also need to thank @happilylouie @theotpalmighty and @fullonlarrie for being so supportive. There are also dozens of other people who have been so lovely to me throughout the writing of this story - i hope you all know who you are - I couldn't have done it without you. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is a story about trust, love, and learning that there's no such thing as 'perfect' unless it's perfect for you. Comments are always more than welcome, makes all of it worthwhile. 
> 
> And if you are on Tumblr, I am, imaginatively, @lucystarkid. I'm always up for chatting. 
> 
> Thanks again, Lucy.

"Niall, this is all your fault, why are you so mean to me?" Harry called forlornly, closing the door to their flat, kicking off his boots in the hallway, and stowing them under the heaving coat rack just inside the front door. He dropped his keys into the little green ceramic bowl, which jostled for space on the sideboard, cluttered with picture frames of their respective families, and the two of them over the years, travelling in their gap year, at Uni, and out and about in London. He let out a long, weary sigh, running his hands through his long curls, and finally dragged himself into the living room.

There, lounged on the sofa, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, was the cause of Harry’s current predicament. Smiling easily, and opening his arms out wide, beckoning him into a hug, was Niall. Bane of his life. It was obvious he'd been waiting up for Harry to get home, looking sleepy, dressed in sloppy tracksuit bottoms and an old Ireland football shirt, reading glasses perched on the top of his head. And Harry could've appreciated the gesture, if he hadn’t been so pissed off. Pizza boxes and a couple of empty beer cans sat precariously on the edge of the old coffee table, alongside a pile of dog-eared sports and music magazines.

Harry plonked down on the sofa - an old battered dark brown leather number - and into Niall’s arms. He grumbled, long legs dangling over one end, and struggled to get comfortable, taking his frustrations out on the inanimate object he was sure was trying to make his life difficult. Finally, he huffed out a deep breath and settled, one forearm covering his eyes, the other hanging off the side of the sofa, fingers resting on the cool hardwood floor.

"So, date went well then did it?" Niall had the audacity to ask, amusement colouring his every word. Lashing out in Niall’s general direction with the arm that wasn’t covering his face, Harry missed, making contact with thin air.

"Piss off Niall, honestly, this is all your fault. Why did I even let you sign me up to that bloody website. Every time, every single time it’s a fucking disaster," and after a moment, a slightly quieter, "Seriously though, is there something wrong with me? Why are they always such a nightmare?"

Niall reached down to wrap his fingers around Harry’s wrist, moved his hand to the side and uncovered his eyes, ruffling his hair, causing it to fall over his face in a long wavy curtain. Niall knew that the best way to deal with Harry when he was like this, was to annoy him out of his sulk, and then get him to talk it over. "Niall, piss off, I’m not in the mood," Harry said, studiously staring at the ceiling. Not giving up, Niall pressed on, "Come on man, it can’t have been that bad, tell us all about it,’ and with a squeeze to Harry's shoulder, "And no, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re a catch, and it’s them that’s missing out."

Harry shifted to a sitting position, legs crossed underneath himself, let out a long sigh, and turned to face Niall, "Well it wasn’t so much a nightmare, just awkward, like they always are. He was ok, was a junior doctor. But I don’t know, we just talked about really superficial stuff, our jobs, where we like to go at the weekends, favourite TV shows. Just surface stuff.

"And, maybe it was just me, but I felt a bit like he was judging me. I don’t care, I’ve got a thick skin now. But he was really normal, really conservative, suit and tie, short cropped hair. I suppose he just made me feel like I was a bit odd, dressed like this." He motioned to himself as he said it. Long lean legs, clad in faded black skinny jeans that looked like they’d been painted on. Sheer black shirt covered in red roses unbuttoned most of the way. His chest and forearms littered with tattoos, heavy rings on most of his fingers, and one nail on his right hand painted bright red.

"I don’t know; maybe next time I’ll tone it down a bit. Don’t want to scare everyone off." And no, Niall was not about to let that happen. He and Harry had been friends since primary school, he’d seen him gradually grow from a self-conscious, insecure boy, into the strong, confident man he was now. He wasn’t about to let a few bad experiences knock him right back down again. "Fuck no Harry, no way," and he ploughed on, stopping Harry from cutting in, "You’re fantastic, and just because a few dicks in suits aren’t smart enough to see it, who cares. They can go fuck themselves. It’s their loss. It’d be different if you wanted to tone it down, for you. But do you, really?"

Harry twirled a long curl around his fingers, giving it some thought, eventually replying with a mix of certainty and sadness, "No, I like myself as I am. God knows, it’s taken me years to get there. So no, I don’t want to tone it down, not really. But I just want to find someone to be with. To go on more than one date with. Who makes me laugh, and thinks I’m funny too. To just be myself with.

"I just feel like I’m going to be single forever. Like Uni, I got that, it was all about casual hook ups, not relationships. But now, it’s nearly two years since I graduated. I just thought I’d have had more than the odd date here and there by now. I want a relationship, not one night stands. I’m just not sure what I’m doing wrong is all."

Niall laughed ruefully as he spoke, "Well Harry, maybe you were right when you said this was all my fault." At Harry's confused expression he carried on, "I mean, you didn’t want to sign up to this stupid dating website in the first place. And a 'professionals' only site, I mean really. It is a bit pretentious when you think about it. So I suppose it’s no surprise really if you’re only meeting stuffy old dicks. So yeah, maybe we cancel that subscription.

"Maybe it’s time to just let it happen naturally. You know the old saying, sometimes you find love in the most unlikely places. And when you’re not even looking for it. Who knows, Mr Right might be just around the corner."

…

"Zayn, fucking stay still will you. You’re going to get pins in unfortunate places if you don’t stop moving the fuck around." Louis spoke through a mouthful of pins, he was trying to stay calm, really he was, but Zayn was testing his patience to the limit. In the middle of their small living room, fighting for space between two overly large charcoal grey velvet sofas, a dressmaker's dummy, and pile after pile of design books and fashion magazines stood Zayn, with Louis kneeling at his feet trying to take up the hem of the trousers he was currently modelling.

Louis had already spent a whole afternoon the week before taking Zayn's measurement, this should have been the easy bit, double and triple checking to make sure the trousers would fit perfectly. But hemming, that was something you really had to do on the person the garment was for. And life would be a whole lot easier if they were co-operating, rather than wriggling, trying to keep hold of a cat that most definitely wasn't in the mood for being hugged. "Zayn, please, let her go so we can get on with this, my knees are fucking seizing up down here." Finally, the furry ball of rage made her escape, landing on the scraps of fabric lying on the wooden floor, skidding and sliding, before stalking away, settling under the coffee table, watching from a safe distance.

"Sorry man, just she never wants to spend time with me, have to make the most of it when she comes anywhere near me." Louis wasn't sure that struggling to get away counted as being affectionate, but, whatever. And Zayn stood straighter now, staying still, letting Louis finish what he was doing. Finally, pins in place, and looking at him from all angles, Louis was happy that the hems were even, and fell just right to hit the tops of his shoes, half an inch or so from the floor at the back.

Louis got to his feet, stretching, joints cracking after so long in one position, and brushed dust and cat hair from his black skinny jeans. He bent, picking up the fabric, reels of thread, and stray pins off of the floor, putting them all carefully away in the wooden chest of drawers next to him.

He pushed his long fringe out of his eyes, and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, to look at Zayn more closely. The trousers he’d sketched were narrow, cigarette-leg, waistband sitting an inch or two above his narrow hips, seat of the trousers designed to fit closely to the body. Even Louis was impressed with how well they’d turned out. Of course, Zayn was a glorious canvas, but still, the fit was spot on, not a ripple of spare fabric to be seen. And the fabric Louis had chosen, a dark grey wool, hung beautifully, darts at the hips and lower back making them fit Zayn like a glove.

Zayn interrupted his thoughts with a, "Lou, are we done? They look great man, really love them, your genius is wasted you know. All right if I take them off now though? Dying for a fag and don’t want to get them stinking of smoke."

"Yeah, yeah, go for it," Louis laughed, "And thanks. Just a shame it doesn’t pay the bills eh. Will have to stick to making other people’s genius look fabulous." He took hold of the finished garment and carefully hung it up, ready to finish later.

Louis walked out on to their small balcony, overcrowded with plants and wooden garden furniture, and sat down gracefully, one legged tucked under himself, aviators on to shield his eyes from the late evening sun, low in the sky. He pinched a cigarette from Zayn, and relaxed back in the chair as he lit it, taking a deep drag, feeling the smoke hit the back of his throat, and enjoyed the slight burn as it left through his nose, gazing down at the road far below, soaking up the peace of people watching.

He heard Zayn shuffling about next to him, and dragged his gaze away from the people down below. Zayn had fixed him with one of those intense, brow-furrowed looks that meant he wanted to talk. Louis, knowing from past experience that nothing good could come of this, but that he’d have to get it over and done with, shrugged, and tilted his head in a question, "Well, what is it? Bring it on Malik."

Zayn held his gaze as he spoke, "I was just thinking out here, before you came to join me. How long’s it been since you’ve been on a date? Or even got laid? Got to be months hasn’t it. What’s that all about, Louis?"

Louis choked out the next words, coughing, smoke going down the wrong way, "Bloody hell Zayn. Get straight to the point why don’t you." And composing himself, "It’s been a while. You’re right about that, Miss Marple. But I’m ok with it, I’m too busy for anything anyway. And I don’t need anyone to help me get off, am a bit of a pro at that myself, thank you very much."

Zayn was pretty sure that the whole 'I’m too busy' thing was bullshit. Or true, but engineered so that Louis didn’t have to look, didn’t have to date. They’d known each other all through Uni. And the Louis then, dating all the time, hooking up in clubs, fighting blokes off, was the polar opposite of the person sitting next to him now. He was sure Louis’ last relationship, and how it had ended, was absolutely the reason for that. But that had been nearly a year ago.

Zayn decided that instead of sharing any of those thoughts, he'd play it safe, and stuck to a simple, "Well Louis, just saying, you’re a bit of a looker. If you do put yourself out there again, you’ll be beating them off with a stick."

…

Harry walked to work, rested and in a much better mood after a lazy weekend with Niall, he thought back to the disaster of a date the week before, and decided that for once, Niall was right. Stop looking for Mr Right, stop trying to force it, and maybe it would just happen. He opened the door to the Starbucks across from their office on Baker Street - and suppressing his inner Sherlock Holmes geek - ordered the usual cappuccinos and muffins, paid, and strode happily into the crisp winter sunshine.

Harry still felt like a bit of a tourist; even after living in London for two years; he enjoyed the hustle and bustle instead of getting stressed by it. He still found himself taking photos of red double-decker buses, of street entertainers, even the poor old London pigeons held a certain charm. He wasn’t sure the novelty would ever wear off, and wasn’t sure he wanted it to. The five-minute walk to the office from the tube was one of his favourite parts of the day, it got the blood pumping in his veins. Made him feel alive, made him feel part of something exciting.

He even loved his little office, walking up to it now, in the grey winter light, its red brick facade, the glossy black front door, the heavy brass knocker, he appreciated everything about it. It felt like an old friend, always the same, day in day out, greeting him, making him feel needed.

"Alright Nick," Harry said, bouncing into the office bright and early, spring in his step, and far too happy for a Monday morning. Nick knew that he was most likely balancing two large Starbucks in one freakishly large hand, and from the rustling he could hear, a brown paper bag of various cakes in the other. And that meant he could just about forgive the over-eagerness. Not without a comment or two first though. Nick span around in his black leather office chair to face Harry, the picture of an outraged boss. His face serious, arms crossed in front of himself, lips pressed into a straight line.

"It’s Mr Grimshaw to you Harry, I’ll have you know. Less of the 'Nick' please. This is a law firm, a serious place of business, thank you kindly. We have standards." He couldn't handle it, had to spin his chair right back around to try and hide the laughter threatening to spill out, away from Harry’s shocked expression.

"Erm, sorry...Mr Grimshaw. I got you a cappuccino. And a muffin. Shall I just leave them on your desk?" Nick waited a moment or two, listening to Harry shuffling from foot to foot behind him, before spinning back around, regretting the dramatics and feeling a bit dizzy, to put Harry out of his misery. Nick laughed in earnest, quiff bouncing, shoulder shaking, and waved the formalities away, raising a perfectly groomed brow, stating, "Shut up Harry, I’m just messing with you, you know I don’t give a shit about stuff like that.

"Hand that coffee over will you, I’m dying here."

Harry, shoulders sagging in relief, feigning annoyance, handed the coffee and cake over with a, "What did I do to in a previous life to end up with you as my boss?" He unbuttoned his long navy wool pea coat, one gold button at a time, shook his hair out from where it had been trapped under the collar, unwrapped the beige cashmere scarf from around his neck, and hung them up on the old wooden coat stand in the corner of their small office.

"Oooh, loving the new coat Harry, where’s it from? Do tell." Nick called, more loudly than was really necessary. Harry settling himself into the chair at the desk across from his boss, took a sip of his drink, swallowed, and answered a bit sheepishly, "Erm, it’s from Harrods actually, mum and Robin gave me some money for Christmas. Decided to treat myself."

"Very swanky. Love it. Is it Saint Laurent?" Nick cooed, getting up, and walking across the office to feel the fabric and look at it more closely.

Harry, still looking a bit embarrassed, but pleased all the same, smiled out a reply, "Yeah it is. Probably costs more than the rest of my wardrobe put together. But I do love it, and you know, 'cost per wear' and all. That’s what they say isn’t it, to justify the cost."

"Sod that, we deserve nice things, the hours we put in here." Nick said, sounding offended by the very idea of Harry doubting the purchase. "And, you know I’m not the best person to get sensible advice from, what with my shoe 'problem' and all." He wiggled his right foot in Harry’s direction, drawing attention to the 'problem' at hand.

There, butted up next to a fairly conservative pair of grey wool suit trousers, and what looked like deep purple silk socks, was a slip-on loafer, gold horse-bit detail across the front. And if that wasn’t enough, the back was fur lined, looking more like really cozy slippers, than the most exquisite designer shoe Harry knew it to be.

"Well, what do you think?" Nick asked, "Gucci of course, lined with kangaroo fur. I don’t think they’re endangered or anything, and I think they just shear them. But god, they're so comfortable. Feel like I’m walking on air. Very expensive, beautiful air.

"So yeah, I’m not the best person to have around if you don’t want to be suckered into spending far too much on beautifully impractical things.

"But I don’t do Harrods, bit too stuffy for me. No disrespect to your gorgeous coat though. Selfridges men’s department is the place of dreams. I’ll have to take you there some time."

…

It wasn’t necessarily what he’d imagined himself doing. Louis had graduated with a first in drama and fashion design from Manchester University, and moved to London with grand dreams. He'd dreamt of landing a job - obviously unpaid to start with - at a fashion house, or independent label. He’d known the chances were slim, and that competition was more fierce than almost any other field. But he’d still had hope. What he hadn’t quite realised was that the fashion industry was almost always, even at entry-level, about connections, and coming from a northern University, he severely lacked any such thing.

He'd admitted defeat eighteen months later, stopped killing himself working two jobs at Starbucks and a soul-destroying call centre, and had managed to land himself a job at Selfridges. He’d started as a sales assistant in the men’s department, working whatever shifts came his way and surviving the madness of not one, but two, post-Christmas sales.

But here he was now, just turned twenty-five, and a Personal Shopper no less. He wasn't the fashion designer he’d dreamt of being, but he still got to be around beautiful clothes all day every day. Just in this instance they were designed by other people.

Louis looked at himself in the mirror, smoothed down his black tailored trousers, and adjusted the cuffs of his fitted black shirt. He pushed his fringe carefully to one side, holding it in place with a light dusting of hairspray, and thought back to the conversation a few days ago with Zayn. He enjoyed his job, and it was great to still have time to sketch and make some of his own designs, but it didn’t leave much time or energy for anything else. He’d been happy about that for a long time. He’d never been good in his own company. But now, maybe he did need to start thinking about his own needs again. It was just hard to trust after everything that had happened.

He walked out on to the shop floor, Sophia appearing out of nowhere. She was a vision in black; wide-leg palazzo pants sitting snugly on her hips; boat-neck t-shirt emphasising her tiny waist and curves; long glossy hair pulled back into a sleek chignon. "Hi Lou, good weekend?" she asked mischievously, planting a light kiss to each of his cheeks. With no response forthcoming, she dug further, "Come on Lou Lou, we always share on a Monday, any juicy gossip?"

Louis decided to go with it for once, give her the gossip she was after. "Well, Soph, seeing as you asked so nicely, and discreetly. Yes. I spent a big chunk of this weekend up close and personal with the lower half of one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen." He was off then, with a smug grin and dramatic flourish, he walked away from her purposefully, checking the rails of clothes to make sure all of the styles and sizes were there, getting ready for the first customers of the day. Sophia’s heels click-clicking in his direction, he turned, hands on hips, and waited. "Lou, you can’t just say something like that and walk off! It’s been months since you got any action, come on. Tell me all about it!"

He elaborated, reeling her in, "Well, let’s see. I’ve known him for a long time. He’s honestly stunning. Body to die for. And his face, he looks like something straight out of a fashion magazine. Great personality too, seems a bit quiet and intense to start with, but once you really get to know him, he’s an absolute sweetheart."

He fought to keep a straight face, and waited for Sophia’s next barrage of questions, "So, how did you meet? What’s his name? What does he do? And what did the two of you do? Come on, I want all the details!" she asked, not disappointing. He ventured on, convinced she’d catch on at some point, "Well, like I say, we’ve known each other for years. He’s a magazine editor, so really intelligent as well. I was on my knees most of the time, they’re a bit sore to be honest," and she was hanging on his every word, "His name’s Zayn…"

He could see the precise moment the penny finally dropped, she huffed and stomped a high-heel clad foot, gave him a stern look, and prodded him in the chest with a perfectly-manicured nail, "I hate you Lou, you’re such a tease." She turned and walked away, saying again more loudly this time, "Honestly, I hate you sometimes."

Truly, Louis would have laughed if it hadn't been so tragic. There in Sophia’s line of fire, in fact mere inches from crashing into her was Liam. ‘IT guy Liam’ as they’d named him. He looked shell-shocked and a little terrified, obviously assuming he’d done something to warrant Sophia’s wrath.

He stumbled over his words as he spoke, "I’m, I’m sorry Sophia, I only came over to see if your tills were working properly, servers seem to be down on some of the other floors. I can come back if now’s not a good time? Sorry."

"What?" she barked, making him recoil slightly, obviously, and rightly confused about why his presence had caused such a reaction. Liam was flustered, but valiantly stood his ground, "I know the servers being down is a pain, but I should be able to sort it out quickly, before the first customers arrive. And hate’s a strong word. I know it’s frustrating, but please, don’t shoot the messenger."

Louis couldn't watch the train-wreck any longer, and decided that stepping in was the right thing to do, "Don’t mind us Liam, it’s not you she hates, it’s me. Sorry mate, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You do what you need to do, and we’ll keep out of your way."

He pulled Sophia away by the arm, with a "Soph, that poor lad, he’s never going to come up here again." And Louis couldn’t help but notice the lingering look Liam gave as he’d dragged Sophia away, or the flush that had rushed to his cheeks when he’d realised Louis had spotted him looking at her.

…

It was Friday. For Nick, that meant only one thing, and he was getting twitchy just thinking about it. Friday afternoon meant Selfridges Shoe Shopping Spree, as he's christened it. He wasn’t sure when it had started, but now it was a weekly ritual. He'd go online in the morning to look at their website and narrow down his choices, and then spend the afternoon getting second opinions from Harry and anyone else who happened to be in the office at the time. And finally, at 4pm on the dot, he'd close up a bit early, send everyone home, and head over to his idea of heaven. The shoe section of the Men’s Department at Selfridges.

He'd hoped, this time, he might have company for the trip. "Hey Harry, do you fancy joining me for a Selfridges adventure? Got to get you away from Harrods and over to the dark side! And I’ll even let you look at the clothes, not just the shoes. How’s that for an offer then?"

Harry finished the sentence he was typing, notes he’d taken from a long day observing in court, saved it, and looked up. "Ah Nick, I’d love to, but I’m meeting Gemma for an early dinner and then we’re going to see a show. And I’m a bit broke at the moment anyway to be honest. I’ll come another time though. Just give me a couple of months to save up, and a bit of warning and I’m all yours."

"Fair enough," Nick said, turning off his laptop, and packing it in his bag, getting ready to leave, "Mark my words though, I will convert you. And once you’ve got a taste for it, you’ll be hooked like me."

He walked to the tube, luxuriating in the comfort of his fur-lined Gucci’s, mentally running through the pros and cons of the two pairs he’d narrowed it down to for today. He'd decided it was a toss up this week between a gorgeous pair of Balmain suede combat boots, or a pair of Givenchy leather slip on trainers. He mulled it over as he walked towards the entrance of the department store, deciding he’d get Louis’ opinion and go from there.

Bright lights of the Men’s Department, luring him in like a moth to a flame, he spotted Louis in the furthest corner, looking dashing in all black. He got within earshot, and chanced a, "Louis, I thought you’d be waiting for me at our usual spot!" Louis whipped around, grinning, pulling Nick into a tight hug. Not exactly proper etiquette, but they’d known each other for nearly two years, and considered themselves friends.

"Hi Nick, how are you? Decided on what it’ll be this week?" Louis asked, cheekily.

"Well...I was thinking shoes this time," Nick quipped back, playing along.

"Really, that’s unusual for you," and grinning now, Louis continued, "Do you have anything particular in mind?"

"Well, it’s all a bit overwhelming, so much to choose from, I’m probably going to need some help," and with that, Nick strode confidently towards the shoe section, Louis in hot pursuit.

After a lot of umming and ahhing, including trying on several pairs that weren’t even on the list, Nick, with Louis’ approval, had decided on the Balmain boots. He watched Louis package them in their gorgeous box, sliding them into one of the famous yellow bags, and took the opportunity to ask him about his plans for the weekend, "What’s on the cards for you then Louis? Clubbing? Or just a quiet one in?" Louis could hear the question in his own voice as he spoke, not even convincing himself as he handed the bag over, "Not sure, probably just a quiet one, I’ve got a couple of designs I want to finish up. And I’m knackered from work. So probably not clubbing, might go to the local for a couple of drinks though."

"Ahh, your designs, I need to see these some time, I bet they’re fabulous. You’ve got great taste, so if that’s anything to go by, they’ll be stunning. Branching out to designing shoes yet?" Nick asked with a small chuckle.

"Nah, not yet. Fabric is my comfort zone, you know that, but maybe one day, and thank you. I’ll bring them in some time." Louis gave Nick another quick hug, and waited for the other man to leave. But as Nick went to walk away, he hesitated, turning back, twinkle in his eye, to say, "By the way, I might have bagged you another customer. Harry from our place. Got his first taste of designer clothes a while ago, and I’m determined not to let him go down the stuffy Harrods route," he pulled a disgusted face even saying the word, "Anyway, you’ll know him when you see him. Tall, long curly hair, will probably look a bit out of his depth. Look after him, won’t you?" He winked as he said it, then turned, and walked away, the cryptic nature of his final words trailing behind him.

...


	2. Chapter 2

“No, this isn’t what I’m after at all, were you even listening when I told you what I was looking for? I said I wanted to look ‘fashion forward’, all you’re doing is throwing random designer names at me. My nine year old could do a better job, honestly.”

And Louis had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop the words from spilling out. He wanted to tell this particular customer where he could go with his ‘fashion forward’ crap, but knowing it was far more trouble than it was worth, he swallowed the words down and composed himself.

He ran a calming hand through his hair, careful not to undo the work he’d put in, styling it into a quiff earlier that morning, and sitting in the spacious private dressing room, reserved for his customers, he set about turning the situation around. “Well, Mr Jones, let’s try and narrow down again exactly what it is you’re looking for, and I’ll see what else we have available for you. How does that sound?”

Mr Jones, late twenties, but old before his time, and clearly a conservative dresser, arriving in beige chinos, brown boat shoes, dark blue Ralph Lauren polo-shirt, and a cream jumper tied around his neck, huffed out a sigh and agreed. “Fine, but this time, can you actually pay attention to what I’m saying, and not just try to get me into the kind of thing you wear." Gesturing at Louis, with a look of disdain on his face, he actually shuddered as he said it, “Not all of us want to look quite so ‘out there’, some of us know what we can and can’t get away with.”

Louis escaped out on to the shop floor before he said something he knew he’d regret, rolling his eyes and mouthing ‘customer from hell’ at Sophia, who in return, pulled an agonised face, and gave him a sympathetic nod from where she was dealing with a customer of her own.

He finally found a selection of clothes that Mr Jones deemed more acceptable, the furthest thing from fashion forward Louis could imagine, and bagged it all up for him. He didn't even bother to make small talk as he did it, folding the bland silk-blend jumpers and very run of the mill trousers, wrapping each item in tissue paper and slipping them into a bag. What he did do however, was rue the fact that in his line of work, he couldn’t vet the kind of people that walked in through the door.

After Mr Jones departure, the remainder of the day passed by uneventfully. It was always quiet on a Friday evening. Although they stayed open until 8pm, the vast majority of customers came in before that, having better things to do with the beginnings of their weekends. Or just wanting to get home before the weak English wintertime sun set.

Louis made the most of the lull, wandering across the shop floor to find Sophia, looking gorgeous as usual. This time she was in a beautifully fitted black pencil skirt, patent high-heeled black pumps, and a black cowl neck top, hair in a bun on the top of her head, lips painted bright red. She was waiting for him, hip cocked, one eyebrow raised, ready for his rant.

“Come on then Lou Lou, let’s hear all about it. You looked like you wanted to kill someone. So I’m betting he was a first-class idiot.” She said it quietly, making sure no one else could hear her.

He leant back against the glass display case, full of beautiful silk scarves, let out a long, pent-up sigh and launched into it, “Oh you know Soph, the usual, come in thinking they want a particular look, and then, when they actually see it, throw a wobbly and accuse you of not listening to them. He compared me to his nine year old. The bloody cheek!

“And, get this, he had the gall to suggest that I couldn’t carry off what I was wearing. I mean please, I know I look fabulous. Not going to start taking fashion tips from Mr Boat Shoes anytime soon.”

Sophia smiled at him, fully able to sympathise, and planted a kiss to his cheek, wiping the red lipstick mark away as she pulled back, replying with a simple, “Don’t let them get to you Lou. Wouldn’t know taste if it hit them in the face most of them. We’re fabulous and they’re just jealous.”

…

“Hey Louis, guess what happened to me today?” Zayn called out, uncharacteristically animated as he walked into their flat, closing the door and toeing off his black creepers, shrinking an inch or so without the thick soles. With no reply coming, he carried on into the small kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and an apple, walking through the lounge, and towards to the balcony where he could see Louis sitting, earphones in.

He tapped Louis on the shoulder lightly, waving as he looked at him, Louis with his earphones still in. Zayn moved the other weather-worn wooden garden chair next to Louis and relaxed back into it, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it. Finally dragging his gaze away from the people walking far below, and taking his earphones out, the first thing Louis was faced with was a complaint. “Fucking hell Lou, how do you get her to do that, you a bloody cat whisperer or something?”

There, curled up on Louis’ lap, purring happily, one eye cracked open, viewing Zayn with a fair degree of suspicion, was Noodle. Zayn’s cat. Ginger and white fur protecting her from the winter chill, nestled snuggly into Louis for extra warmth. Stroking her, and earning a surprised chirrup, Louis schooled his face into a mock-serious expression and fixed Zayn with an icy glare, “Well Zayn, speaking on her behalf, I’d say you got off to a pretty bad start when you named her Noodle. I mean really, what kind of name’s that. No wonder she hates you. She’s clearly more of a Princess.” He stroked her again under the chin, and addressed the bundle of fur in his lap this time, “Aren’t you Princess? Stupid Zayn, naming you after a carb.” Agreeing, Noodle repaid Louis by nuzzling his hand and grooming it with her raspy tongue. She shifted then, facing Zayn, for all the world looking like she was awaiting answers to the travesty of a name.

Zayn sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and admitting defeat, he decided to distract them, “Anyway Lou, you didn’t hear me before, but you’ll never guess what happened today.”

Louis went with it, realising he was meant to play along, “Guess what happened today. Hmmm, well considering your days normally revolve around turning other people’s bog-standard writing into things of beauty. I’m going to guess you finally cracked and gave one of the journalists a piece of your mind. Wouldn’t blame you, they’ve got it coming to them, they should give you a promotion. Get you writing articles instead of polishing other people’s turds.”

At that, Zayn coughed out a lungful of smoke that caused Noodle to flee back into the flat, before choking the words out, “Well thanks mate, but no, not about me. Here, this is for you,” he stood, rummaging in his trouser pocket, and pulled out a small card, handing it over to Louis.

Louis took it, and spent a moment or two digesting the words written on it. He finally looked up, surprise colouring his words, “This is your Editor-in-Chief’s business card. Why are you giving it to me mate?” Instead of telling him, Zayn, still standing, motioned to himself and wiggled his narrow hips, “These bad boys man, he loved them.

“Went out for a department lunch today, you know, how we always do after working on a weekend to get a new issue of the mag out. For once he came with us instead of just paying for it. Was at the bar at the same time as him and he asked me where they were from.

“He was seriously impressed when I said that you’d made them. Was going on and on about the cut and the fit. Asked me to give you his card, said he’d be interested to see more of your work if you’d be up for it.”

Louis didn’t know what to say, what with this, and Nick pestering him over and over to see his designs, maybe he did need to try to make something of it. He looked at Zayn, and he could admit that the dark purple wool trousers looked good. And if he was being really honest with himself, they looked as good, if not better, than some of the clothes he sold on a daily basis.

He'd made enough clothes, over the last couple of years, to form a collection. They didn't all follow the same theme, but in terms of quantity, he knew he’d been pretty prolific. Most of it had ended up in Zayn’s wardrobe. He'd only reserved a couple of special items for himself. But in terms of promoting himself, he was all over the place, designs in dozens of sketch books, and barely any photos of the clothes to act as a record. He knew there was no way he was prepared enough to present. Especially not to someone who's opinion really mattered professionally,

He looked at Zayn cautiously, and still holding the business card securely between his fingers, asked hopefully, “Don’t suppose you’d be up for sacrificing your Sunday to the greater good would you mate? I’d pay you in pizza and fags."

...

Louis knew he wasn’t the most organised of people, but this was beyond a joke. He sat on the living room floor with two year’s worth of work surrounding him, slowly disappearing under a mountain of sketch books, fabric swatches, pages torn from magazines, half finished garments, and the small collection of photos he’d taken of works in progress over the years. He felt more than a little overwhelmed, but he tried to convince himself that he was at the ‘it’s got to get worse before it gets better’ stage, took a quick sip of tea and carried on sorting through it.

An hour later, and he was pretty sure he was still in the ‘worse’ stage, and he was silently despairing at the thought of trying to narrow it all down into something resembling a portfolio. Sensing his distress, and coming over to offer moral support, Noodle padded up to him, butting his hand in greeting, nuzzling into him, “Princess love, you’re my favourite, but now’s a bad time.” She only took that as confirmation that Louis needed her help, settling herself on a pile of papers, before curling up and falling asleep. “Princess,” Louis said, in his best telling off voice, but to no avail, the cat just continuing to sleep. Louis admitted defeat, relaxed back on to the side of the sofa and carried on sorting through the sketchbook closest to him.

“There, that’s better”, he said to a still sleeping Noodle, hours having passed by. He’d whittled the sketches down to the ones he was most proud of, and cut strips of fabric to go alongside each one. All he needed now were updated photos.

He got up and stretched out the kinks in his neck and shoulders, made two teas - a strong one for himself and a milky monstrosity for Zayn - and knocked on Zayn’s bedroom door. Hearing a quiet 'come in', he pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. Zayn, who was sat on his bed reading, looked up, smiled at the sight of the tea, and shuffled over, making room for Louis to sit next to him.

“Alright mate, how’s it going? Could hear you chatting away to yourself. On track to have it done for next week?” Louis played with his hair distractedly as Zayn spoke, and took a sip of too hot tea before he replied. “Yeah, think so, it’s amazing looking back through everything, some of my early stuff's really wacky, not sure anyone would actually wear it. But the more recent pieces, I’m really proud of them. And I know I’m my own worst critic, but I’m really nervous about giving it to your boss. Think I’m going to run it past Nick first. I know he’s not in the industry, and that’s why really, he’s more likely to be kind to me, boost my confidence up a bit. Is that alright?”

Zayn smiled at that, bumping their shoulders together, “Of course Lou, however you want to play it. No need to be nervous though. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think you were good. Really, he doesn’t hand compliments out easily. Anyway, did you come in here bearing cigarettes and pizza, bribing me in advance for my modelling services?”

With pizzas ordered and cigarettes promised for afterwards, Zayn was the perfect model Louis knew he would be. He was infinitely patient, not seeming to care how long it took, or how many combinations of creations Louis asked him to change into. An hour or so passed by and they were finally done.

Louis decided to leave selecting and printing the best photos, and putting the portfolio together until later. And soon the smell of gloriously greasy, tempting pizza filled the flat.

“How’s it happened again. It’s not bloody fair.” And a couple of beers in, all Louis could do was laugh and shake his head at the sight of Noodle resting herself against him on the sofa, her head lying on his thigh, deep asleep. “Zayn mate, I’m sorry, you may be beautiful, but she just loves me more.”

…

Harry was relieved to head back to work. Much as he loved Niall, he could be a pain in the arse sometimes. And the weekend had been one of those times. Harry had booked Monday off work, and to celebrate they’d agreed to go to a gig at their local on the Saturday night. ‘A quiet one’ Niall had promised. But somehow, Harry was sure it was Niall’s fault, it’d turned into a lock-in at the pub after hours, pints had turned into too many shots, and they’d woken up, back in their own flat, late in the afternoon on Sunday. Niall annoyingly chipper, Harry nursing the mother of all hangovers. Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

As he strolled towards the office, extra early for no apparent reason, Harry day-dreamed, walking the familiar route on auto-pilot. He arrived at their office still in a world of his own, and pushed against the heavy black door, only to have it fly away from him and a warm body crash into him. Harry staggered back, winded and losing his balance slightly from the force of the impact. He only gained his feet when he felt a hand wrap around his forearm, pulling him back up.

“Sorry man, wasn’t looking where I was going at all, totally my fault,” and standing solidly on both feet, Harry finally saw the person who had crashed into him, no more than two feet away, both hands up in surrender, acknowledging his mistake. He was stunning. Half a head shorter than Harry, compact and beautifully dressed in all black, his chestnut hair slightly longer and swept to one side framing his beautiful face. He had high cheekbones, a delicate bone structure, and the most startlingly blue eyes. And a mouth. A mouth that was at that very moment quirking up into an amused smile. Suddenly, the stranger spoke again, snapping Harry out of this reverie, “You ok there buddy? No harm done?” Momentarily struck dumb, all Harry could do was nod, as the beautiful stranger squeezed past him and walked down the steps, brushing against him as he went, before he strode out into the bustle of central London.

Harry stood stock still, gazing after him, as he walked away and towards the mass of morning commuters. He carried on watching, craning his neck to see, until the figure, poised and delicate amongst the herds of people that seemed dull in comparison, disappeared from view entirely. Harry physically shook himself, ran both hands through his long hair, and letting out a shuddering breath, he picked his leather satchel up from where it had fallen to the ground during their collision. On unsteady feet, he made his way into the building, feeling unspent adrenaline coursing through his veins.

…

Nick could tell something was up as soon as he saw Harry walk through the door. Coffees and cakes in hand as per usual, trusty Saint Laurent buttoned up to keep out the morning chill, but yes, something was most definitely up. And he was sure that he knew what it was.

Nick watched Harry with some amusement, he could see him struggling to undo the gold coat buttons with shaky hands, spotted the faint flush in his cheeks which was not from the biting London wind, and noticed a fidgety undertone to his every move. Nick was certain it was a person, or rather, one person in particular, that had made Harry lose his composure so completely.

“Alright there Harry? Seem a bit flustered, something happened?” Nick asked, smiling to himself as he said it.

Harry jumped at the sound of Nick’s voice, in his own little world up until that point, ran one large ring-clad hand across his face, and gave Nick a not entirely convincing smile. “What? Yeah, I’m fine, it’s nothing, just still trying to wake up, first day back and all that. I’ll be fine once I’ve got a bit more caffeine in my system.” At that, he handed one steaming cup to Nick, and took a sip of his own, aware and self-conscious of his hand, still shaking.

Nick let the topic drop, distracted by the aroma of freshly-ground coffee headed his way. He'd come back to it later though, for his own amusement if nothing else.

“Right Harry, it’s our favourite case today. Mr Hammond,” and they both grimaced at the very sound of their client's name. “I know, I know, he’s a git. But it’s cases like this that pay the bills. Lets us do the pro-bono work we’re both really here for.”

And Harry knew it was true, but Mr Hammond was an especially nasty piece of work. He ran a multi-million pound sports company, with dozens of gyms dotted around London. He paid his staff barely minimum wage, all on zero-hours contracts, while making the most of loopholes to pay virtually nothing in tax himself. But that wasn’t why he’d come to see them, that was all, unfortunately, perfectly legal. No, Mr Hammond had come to see them a month or two ago, ranting and raving about his 'greedy cow of an ex-wife', and it transpired that she was trying to take action against him as part of their divorce settlement. The pittance he’d agreed to pay her in maintenance for their two small children, nowhere near a true reflection of what she was entitled to. Add to that, the fact that the only reason she’d filed for divorce in the first place was because she’d found out, in fact caught him, having an affair with his PA. But of course, Mr Hammond, being the entirely reasonable man that he was, wanted to fight her all the way, wasn’t going to give her an extra penny until he’d put her through the legal mill.

Harry sighed, opened up the case files, and agreed with a half-hearted, “I know, I know, he’s just such an arse.” He took another sip of coffee, and resolved to work thoroughly, but not too thoroughly, on Mr Hammond’s case.

Hours passed with just the sounds of papers shuffling, and the soft tap-taps of laptop keystrokes. Only the occasional phone call for Nick, interspersed throughout the morning, disturbed the near silence as they worked.

The rather obnoxious sound of Harry’s stomach rumbling broke through the tranquility. He looked up and over to Nick, who was grinning back at him, both having the very same idea. "That your subtle way of telling me it’s lunch time is it Harry?” Already getting to his feet as he spoke, Nick walked over to Harry’s desk and snapped his laptop shut, chucked his coat and scarf at him, and lead them out of the office, locking up behind him.

They walked the short distance to their favourite Italian bistro, making small talk, with Nick loudly judging the fashion choices of the unsuspecting people walking by. It was only five minutes from the office, and they arrived to gorgeous aromas of tomatoes and herbs drifting out of the small building and down the street. It was a popular place, and the queue spilled out of the door. Nick saw the queue and complained loudly, drawing a few unimpressed looks from the people ahead of them. Harry just laughed, pulling Nick along to their place at the back of the queue.

…

They were finally seated by the window, tables close together, and able to overhear the conversations going on around them. Harry ripped off a chunk of crusty bread and dipped it into the hot spicy tomato soup he’d ordered. His mouth full with food, Nick chose that moment to strike. “So Harry, don’t you at least want to know the name of the person that got you so flustered this morning?”

Harry sputtered and dropped his spoon, and after concentrating on not choking to death, he managed to at least reply, “How did you know, you installed creepy CCTV or something?” He returned to the soup, suddenly infinitely interesting, and pleased with his come back. He hoped Nick would let it drop.

No such luck. “Oh come on love, you were all over the place when you arrived this morning. Surprised you didn’t have to sit down the second you got in, legs looked like they were going to give way under you,” Nick goaded.

Harry decided it was easier to give in, and that Nick wasn’t going to leave it alone until he did. He calmed himself and hoped his voice didn’t give away how on edge he was feeling inside. “Go on then, yes, I did crash into someone on my way in, nearly knocked me right down the stairs. And I did wonder what he was doing at our place. So yeah, fill me in then.” And kicking himself, from the look on Nick’s face, he’d already given away far too much.

"Whoa, calm down Harry, I only offered to tell you his name, didn’t offer to fill you in on his life story. Keen much?’ Harry didn't reply, instead he fixed Nick with what he hoped was an adequate ‘don’t mess with me’ look, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long for Nick to cave, the love of gossip, and the sound of his own voice too tempting. “Well young Harry, that was Louis. Louis from Selfridges, my home from home. He’s got fantastic taste, as you can see.” And there, obnoxiously poking out from under the table was, Harry had to admit, a gorgeous, soft looking brogue, taupe, punch-detailing crisp and clean. "Paul Smith," Nick continued on, passionate, momentarily forgetting the main topic of conversation. Shoe talk did that to him. After studying his own foot lovingly for a good few seconds, Nick audibly cooed in delight, before dragging his gaze away and back to Harry.

“Yes, as I was saying. Impeccable taste in shoes. And seems a lovely guy. Known him for a couple of years. Not socially, but I’d say we’re friends,” and after taking a quick sip of tea, he carried on, “Very attractive, clearly. But not my type. We’d spend our lives fighting over wardrobe space. And yes Harry, before you ask, or don’t ask and stew on it, he’s gay, out and proud.”

Harry hung off his every word, cup of coffee held in one hand, hovering somewhere between his mouth and the table. He suddenly realised it was his turn to speak, and the best he could come up with was, “Nick! I saw him for two seconds while I tried not to fall on my arse. I didn’t say I liked him”

With a wink and an annoyingly smug look on his face, Nick simply took a bite of his food, settled back in his chair, and replied, “But you do like him, don’t you?”

Damn him.

...

Back at the office, Nick was unbearable, shooting Harry knowing looks, and making kissy faces at him, spinning around and around in his obnoxious black leather chair like a child after too much sugar. After half an hour or so, he finally got bored of Harry studiously ignoring him, huffed, muttered “You’re no fun” under his breath, and went back to checking his emails. Harry enjoyed the blessed relief from Nick’s not so subtle antics, immersed himself unhappily in trying to get a guilty man off the hook, and wished the rest of the afternoon away.

The phone rang, and Nick got up to take it in their private meeting room. Harry took the chance to take a break and go and make himself a well-earned cup of tea. He decided to be the bigger man and made one for Nick too, adding far more milk than the other man liked, just because. He went back to his desk, and seeing Nick was still on the phone, deep in conversation in the meeting room, he walked over to his bosses' desk and placed the mug of tea down on the Spice Girls coaster, pride of place, only tucked away when client’s came into the office.

He spotted the A3 black leather portfolio straight away, out of place amongst the manila files they used as standard. He almost opened it, interest piqued, but decided better of it, didn't know what sensitive material might be inside. Going back to his own desk, he waited for Nick to end his call, intrigued about the contents of the expensive looking portfolio sitting in the middle of the other man’s desk. His eyes bored into the closed office door, and willed Nick to finish his call and come out.

After what felt like an age, but was probably only a few minutes, Nick returned, plonking himself down in his chair with a weary sigh. “Everything ok?” Harry asked, concerned. Nick waved him away with a gesture that very clearly meant that he didn’t want to talk about it, and took a sip of the tea, pulling a face at its milky state, but still having the good grace to thank Harry for his efforts.

Nick, energised by the sub-standard tea, pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and took hold of the portfolio on his desk. He opened it carefully, and turned a page every few minutes, after a few pagers, he looked up, and awe clear in his voice, said, “Harry, come over here, you’ve got to see this.

“I know you’re new to the world of designer clothes, let alone bespoke, but this is something else.” And as he said it, he opening the portfolio out flat on his desk, giving Harry a better view.

There, written on a post-it, stuck inside the front cover was a note; _Nick, seeing as you asked so nicely, and so many times, here’s a little look at some of the best pieces I’ve made over the years. Be nice, I have diva tendencies! Louis._

Harry looked on as Nick turned the pages reverently, and he had never seen such beautiful clothes. He could see certain themes coming through. A preference for luxurious, high-quality fabrics, and rich, dark, colours. A focus on streamlined, fitted silhouettes, and a flair for pairing designs down to their most fundamental components, only to build them back up with brilliance into something beautiful.

Again and again, the same model looked out at them from the pages, narrow hips, well-proportioned for the style Louis obviously preferred, jet black hair, dark brown eyes, and sharp cheekbones. He did the clothes justice. Dark purple fitted trousers hanging low on his hips, another dark grey wool pair fitting him like a glove, a jet black pea coat sitting on his shoulders, the heavy fabric skimming over him effortlessly, open to show the unusual gunmetal satin lining inside. It was all stunning. And the work of a very creative mind.

They were both stunned into silence, but as they flicked through the last few pages Harry’s breath caught in his throat. No longer brown eyes looking out at him, but familiar bright blue ones. There, standing tall, shoulders back, legs wide apart in a strong stance, hair styled into a quiff, was Louis.

He was beautiful, that was not in question. But there, wearing the clothes he’d created, that he had brought to life, from the infancy of thoughts, through the hours he must have put into sketching and designing them, to actually turning those ideas on paper into beautiful, wearable clothes. That made Harry respect and revere a man he had never even properly met.

Nick reached the last page, and closed the book gently, treating it as if it were precious in its own right. They looked at each other for a few seconds, before Nick let out a despairing laugh and spoke first, “What the hell’s he doing selling other people’s clothes. That man’s gifted. I need him to make me a wardrobe full, and right now!

“What do you think Harry? I’m not alone in this right, am I? And it hurts me to say it, but he’s wasted at Selfridges.”

Harry wasn't really thinking, he was still letting the images he’d just seen sink in, “He’s beautiful.” And looking at Nick’s expression, a mixture of smug and surprised, he realised what he’d said, and flustered, rushed to correct himself, “I mean it’s beautiful, the work, the clothes, they're beautiful, that’s what I mean.”

He escaped back to his desk, flopped down in his chair, and felt the cool wood on his cheek as he sprawled forward, hands over his ears. He could still hear Nick’s laughter ringing through the office. The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough.

...

Harry walked into their local, and spotted Niall’s shock of blonde hair across the other side of the bar, he quickly ordered them two beers and made his way over to his friend, shuffling into the booth, and sitting across from him.

He felt itchy, with thoughts he desperately wanted to share. He waited for Niall to ask him how his day had been. Annoyingly distracted by the rugby on the big-screen, cheering loudly every time Ireland scored a try, finally Niall seemed to notice, “You alright mate, tough day was it? You’re a bit quiet, want another drink?”

Jumping at the chance to download, so relieved he’d actually asked, Harry decided to just go for it, “Niall, do you believe in love at first sight?”

...


	3. Chapter 3

“Niall, stop laughing at me, this is serious, I need your advice!” and Harry, twenty-five year old, supposed actual adult, lawyer Harry, was pouting. His bottom lip jutting out, brows pulled into a deep frown, arms crossed. Throw in a foot stomp and it would be full-blown tantrum territory.

Laughing into his third beer, foam coating his top lip, Niall took a deep, centering breath, and slumped back against the wooden pew he was sitting on. “Come on Harry, you can’t blame me, can you? You haven’t mentioned any bloke to me, and now you’re sat here, looking all earnest, asking me if I believe in love at first sight.

“I know you, this is what you do. You fall for people really easily. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But jeez, at least tell me this bloke's name, give me something to go on.”

Harry knew, that annoyingly, Niall had a point. His past dating record was a string of either one-sided crushes that led nowhere, or relationships he fell into head first, thought were going really well, and ended abruptly when the other person invariably said he was ‘too full on’, or forgot to mention at the beginning that they weren’t looking for a long-term relationship.

And he was pretty sure his Facebook habits gave a good insight into the state of his feelings as far as relationships went. The fact that he only ever ventured on there when he was in a very strong and positive frame of mind said it all really. There were only so many photos of weddings, and honeymoons, and babies, he could take. He wanted that. Had wanted that for years. So yes, if he fell easily, and looked for love as soon as he saw a glimmer of it, who could blame him really.

Harry slumped forward, resting his chin on the top on the wooden table between them, looked up at Niall with sad puppy-dog eyes, and launched into it, “Obviously I’m not in love with him, but I think I might be if I get to know him any better. His name’s Louis, he’s friends with Nick, he’s a personal shopper at Selfridges. But he’s completely wasted there, he’s an amazing designer, I saw some of his clothes today, they’re mind-blowing.

“He crashed into me when I was going to work. He’s stunning. Like literally stunning, I couldn’t even speak to him. There’s just something about him, he just seems extra alive. Like everyone else is just kind of ‘there’, but he, he just has this aura about him. He just seems really special.”

Looking at his friend, hair a bit frizzy from where he’d been subconsciously playing with it while he spoke, eyes wide and gleaming with excitement, Niall couldn’t pretend to understand where Harry was coming from, but he could support him. “Blimey Harry, he’s made a bit of an impression on you hasn't he? And you didn’t even speak to him? Come on mate, you’ve got to do something about that. You’re a good looking bloke. Get Nick to give him your number, get him to put in a good word for you, set you up on a date. That’d be cool.”

And no, that would not be ‘cool’. Sighing, Harry replied, “Niall, how am I meant to go from not saying a single word to him, to giving him my number. That’d be seriously creepy. Like ‘you don’t know me at all, but fancy going out for dinner, and maybe penciling in being my future husband.’ Seriously, what with the dating website, and now this. Don’t ever think about a career as an Agony Aunt, please.”

...

They were in court for the second day in a row. Nick representing Mr. Hammond, and Harry there to offer counsel, observe, and provide him with any additional case files he might need during proceedings. As Harry watched Nick question their client, and cross-examine the defence, he thought to his own future, looking forward to the day where he would take the lead and represent his own clients. He knew it wasn’t far off, knew and appreciated that Nick had supported him to develop his skills, confidence, and experience.

He thought back to school days, and then on to University, mapping out the steps he'd taken, leading up to where he was now. He’d been lucky, academically strong from an early age. But it hadn’t all been down to luck. He’d been willing to work hard too, determined to make the best of himself. Make his mum proud, to have a career where he could help people, make a difference. And a lawyer might not have been his first choice. He'd had idealised dreams of volunteering abroad, or working for a charity, but ultimately, law had won out. The mix of eventual financial stability; the opportunity to help people that really needed it; and the look on his mum’s face when he’d talked to her about it, meant it was always going to be the career for him.

And Nick, for all his seemingly superficial interests, was a great role model. He was intelligent, dedicated, and serious when he needed to be. He was morally strong, but able to put his own emotions to one side. And above all else, he was proud of his sexuality. He was honestly and robustly himself, no matter the setting. Looking at him now, commanding the respect of those around him, Harry believed he’d started what he hoped would be a long and meaningful career, with the perfect mentor by his side.

...

The following day, Nick greeted him back from lunch with a, “Harry love, I need a favour,” waving the black portfolio case in one hand as he said it. “We really need to get this back to Louis. Much as I’d like to drool over it, or hold it hostage until he makes me some of those fabulous purple trousers, we’ve had it nearly a week. I’m sure he wants it back.”

Harry shifted his gaze from where he’d been focussed on a particularly tricky email exchange with a potential new client, and looked over toward Nick. His eyebrows shot up to somewhere near his hairline when he saw the black case Nick was waving in his direction. He realised that if he gave into Nick, it would mean seeing Louis again. And this time, he’d know in advance, he’d be the one making it happen. He felt butterflies settling prematurely in his stomach, making him feel on edge, his nerves jangling.

“But you’re going there tomorrow anyway, aren’t you?” Harry asked, knowing Friday afternoon was always blocked out and kept clear for Nick’s weekly trip to Selfridges.

Nick got up and walked over to Harry's desk, placed the portfolio on it and slid it towards him. He smoothed down the lapels of his navy suit jacket as he spoke, “Can’t this week Harry, too much to do here. You know that the summing up for the Hammond case is on Monday. No way I can get away early tomorrow. Much as it saddens me to say it, fashion is just going to have to take a back seat this week.”

He saw Harry hesitating, and laid the charm on thicker, determined to win him over, “Please Harry, take it after work tonight, I’ll be here late, getting organised for tomorrow. But I’m ok if you want to knock off a bit early and pop there on your way home. It’d really help me out, and I know Louis would appreciate it.” And Nick, supreme reader of people that he was, mentally patted himself on the back, seeing Harry’s posture soften in defeat.

Harry couldn't see anyway of getting out of it politely, so butterflies in full flight, he took hold of the portfolio and opened it one last time. He took a final look at the designs that had mesmerized them both so fully a few days ago, before closing it again, and sliding it carefully into his satchel. He looked back up to Nick, who was still standing at the edge of his desk, and thrust an empty cup in his direction while speaking, “Fine, I’ll drop it in tonight, but you can start to pay back this ‘favour’ by making me a tea. Don’t think you’ve made a me single sodding one all day.”

…

Never mind butterflies in his stomach, as he walked up to the entrance of Selfridges, Harry felt like they were fluttering their way up his windpipe and trying to escape out of his mouth. He felt himself panicking, and as the escalator took him up towards the men's department, he tried to work out if there was a way he could give the portfolio back to Louis without actually having to speak to him. He watched the people all around him, customers and sales staff alike, and willed himself to calm down, to not make a complete fool of himself. He finally reached the right floor, and stepped off the escalator into such an array of colours, designs and beautiful clothes, that for a moment at least, it distracted him from how nervous he still felt.

It was unlike any shop he had been in before, more empty space than clothes, but the clothes that were there were stunning, works of art really. Mannequins decked out in co-ordinated items. Some casual, some formal, some conservative, some getting on for avant-garde. As he walked between them, looking for Louis, he felt self-conscious and suddenly very aware of what he was wearing. He hadn’t been in court that day, and hadn’t had any client meetings either. He smoothed down his smartest black skinny jeans. and pulled at the hem of his shirt, trying to get rid of the creases that had gathered during the day. Catching sight of himself in a floor to ceiling mirror, he couldn't believe it, “Fuck, it’s the sperm shirt,” he muttered under his breath, realising with some horror, that he was wearing the patterned black shirt Nick had taken great delight in naming. He was sure they were meant to be paint splatters, but still. He did up an extra button, and ran his hands through his hair, taming his curls, before taking a final deep breath, and setting off to find Louis.

As he wandered deeper into the department, he heard Louis before he saw him. Really, Harry thought he should be concerned by that, seeing as he’d only heard Louis speak a handful of words before. He looked in the direction of that distinctive voice, and there he was. Harry hid behind a mannequin, hoping Louis hadn’t spotted him, and realised he hadn’t really thought this through at all. Louis stood at the till, chatting to a customer, long line of people behind them waiting to be served. Again, Harry couldn’t get over how full of life, full of energy Louis looked. He was in all black again, turtleneck jumper framing his jawline, hair swept up into a quiff, and his eyes sparked with amusement as he chatted to the customer he was serving.

Harry’s plan had been a simple one. He was meant to pop in, quickly hand over the portfolio and make a run for it. But no, there was a queue. And he couldn’t just push to the front, that would be rude. He was just going to have to awkwardly wait in line. So, he frantically looked around, convincing himself it would be less awkward if he actually bought something, grabbed the nearest thing to him, and joined the back of the queue.

…

“Hi, welcome to Selfridges, I hope you found everything you were looking for today?” Looking up at the lack of response, Louis’ breath caught in his throat for a moment, at the familiar face standing awkwardly on the other side of the counter. “Ah. Well hello, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” And if Louis noticed the lovely shade of pink Harry's cheeks went, he had the good grace not to mention it. The fact that Louis himself, was too entranced by each and every thing about the man across from him, might possibly have had something to do with it as well. As he remembered back to their first meeting, the man standing in front of him now, looked even more stunning than before, if that was possible.

Harry made eye contact properly for the first time, and smiling shyly, he placed his satchel on the counter and started rummaging about in it, pulling out the portfolio. Noticing Louis’ brow crease in confusion, he spoke quickly, “Nick asked me to bring it back. Wanted to do it himself, but he’s busy today.” And seeing Louis’ shoulders relax, and a genuine smile spread across his face, he carried on, checking behind him and seeing that he was the only customer there. “I work with Nick, I know we kind of ‘met’ before, the other day, but I’m Harry.” He stuck his hand out for Louis to shake, and felt like an idiot at how overly formal it was as soon as he did it.

Louis laughed quietly, and met Harry’s gaze, as he reached out to meet him halfway. He was conscious that his own hand was dwarfed by Harry’s much larger one as they shook, and he admired the large, ornate silver ring on his thumb, and the topaz one on his little finger. “Well, nice to properly meet you Harry, thanks for bringing this back,” he broke the contact then to pick up the portfolio, and looked nervous suddenly, nibbling on his lower lip.  

Harry picked up on the slight change in atmosphere, and jumped in, “Shit, I mean, sorry, I meant to say, Nick loved your designs. We both did actually.” Looking at Harry, it was Louis’ turn to blush. Rambling on, Harry was aware that the words were just tumbling out, “They’re stunning, you’re seriously talented. I don’t know all that much about fashion, still learning really. But Nick, you know what he’s like, obsessed with this place. And he actually said he’d sacrifice you to the greater fashion good,” and lowering his voice and whispering the last part, “He said you were wasted here.”  

Louis looked an interesting mixture of flattered, amused, and self-conscious, and he took a moment to compose himself, before letting out a little laugh, and replying conspiratorially, “Shhh, don’t say that, they’ll have me fired for moonlighting!

“No but seriously, thank you. That means a lot, didn’t know Nick was going to show it to anyone else. But I’m glad you both liked it. Just need to do a bit more work on it before I show it to the next person,” and Harry was going to ask what he meant, who the ‘next person' was, genuinely interested, but the tutting and huffing from the older man who had appeared in the queue behind them put paid to that.

Harry was a bit put out, feeling like the moment between them had been broken prematurely, but trying to make the most of it, he smiled brightly through his frustration, and slid his purchase over the counter toward Louis. “Thought I’d better buy something while I was here, taking up your time and all that.” Louis only nodded in response, and visibly holding back a grin and a comment that was on the tip of his tongue, he bagged up the purchase and gave Harry his change. “Well Harry, thanks again for dropping it back, it was really kind of you. Tell Nick I said ‘hi’. And don’t be a stranger, really, it was lovely to meet you.”

And as Harry turned to walk away, he heard Louis call after him, mischief clear in his voice, “And good choice by the way.”  

After he'd got himself a safe distance from Louis, and anyone else for that matter, Harry wondered what the hell he’d just bought. He hadn’t even bother to look, had just grabbed the nearest thing, and then he'd been too caught up in Louis to think about it after that. He leant against a marble pillar, opened the bag and looked inside. And, “Oh fuck,” he covered his face with his spare hand, going red at the over-familiarity of it all. There at the bottom of the bag, was a jet black, Armani jockstrap. Life was a bitch sometimes.

...

“So Pig, how do we think Harry got on?” Nick lounged on his sofa, comfy in grey and navy striped pajama pants, and a navy t-shirt. He took a large sip of red wine, changed the channel away from the football they had somehow ended up on, and snuggled closer up to Pig - his Bull Terrier - who was dozing on his lap.

“Don’t look at me like that missus. It was only a little white lie.” Pig was staring at him like he’d committed some terrible crime, “What? So I might not have been as busy as I said I was. No harm done. They’d be good together. Have to give people a little helping hand sometimes don’t you.” Pig yawned at that, seemingly placated that the lie was for the greater good, stretched, and settled back to sleep.

…

“Come on Louis, I can tell you like him. Just admit it. It’s not a bad thing.” Sometimes Louis hated having a friend that could read him so well, and this was one of those times. He hadn’t even said anything, he’d stupidly agreed to meet Zayn at their local for a couple of beers after work, and here they were, Zayn grilling him, Louis struggling not to get defensive.

Louis clasped his pint like a lifeline, teetering on the edge of a full-blown rant, and bit back, “Zayn, shut the fuck up. If you were even paying attention, I was telling you that Nick, and Harry, really liked my designs, and that’s massive for me. You know I was nervous, showing anyone else, so yeah, I’m chuffed they liked them. And I was just saying, before you interrupted with your fantasies, that I’m going to need a bit more time, to put some final touches to it before you show it to your boss. Alright?

"So I don’t know where the hell you got the fact that I like Harry from. I’ve met him for about fifteen minutes total.”

Zayn studied his friend sat across from him, all animated hand movements and frequent hair touches, and knew. The fact that Louis had said Harry’s name about ten times in the space of ten minutes, it was clear, that much as he tried to deny it, Louis did in fact like Harry, even though Zayn didn’t have a clue who this Harry was.

He reached across the wooden table, and placing his hand on top of Louis’ to still him, he ventured on cautiously, “You’ve just mentioned him a lot is all. He sounds like a good guy from what you’re saying. Sounds like someone who it would be at least worth getting to know a bit better. That’s all I’m saying Lou. No pressure or anything.”

Louis took a large gulp of his beer, and settled back into the comfy armchair he’d somehow managed to snag. He nodded, and decided it was time to share with Zayn the full details of why he was the way he was. “Zayn mate, you’re my best friend, you know that right? But we’re just different when it comes to dating. I know back at Uni, at the beginning, I was always messing about, always with different guys. But I’m not like that now. I don’t think I could be like that now, even if I wanted to be.” Zayn looked up from his own pint, and just gave him an understanding nod.

“I was with Matt for two years, we were exclusive, we even talked about moving in together after Uni, having kids. Yeah, we even talked about starting a family.” And, wow, Zayn knew they’d been serious, that Louis had seen his future with him. But he hadn’t known the last part, hadn’t realised they’d talked about having children. “So, being with someone like that, thinking that it was something that was going to last a lifetime, and then getting home and walking in on him shagging some bloke in our bed. No warning, no sign that anything was going wrong. That’s not something I’m going to get over quickly. It was only a year ago.  

“Honestly, I want to. I want to date and not worry, to be in an actual relationship and not doubt the other person’s every move. But I’m just not there yet. I’ll get there, I know I will. But it’s just going to take a bit more time for me to be able to trust again, to risk getting hurt again. Do you get that?”

Zayn nodded, taking Louis’ hand again like before, rubbing soothing circles on his palm.

Louis carried on, “And you’re right. From the little I know of him, I do like Harry. He’s gorgeous, in this really eccentric way, all long hair, and tattoos, not how you’d expect a lawyer to be at all. He’s got the most beautiful, kind green eyes, and the most annoying dimples when he smiles. And he seems like a nice guy, and I don’t mean ‘nice’, in a kind of bland way. He’s just got this kind of soothing energy about him. He’s seems genuinely caring, seemed to be actually interested in my work, felt like he wanted to ask me more about it today. So yeah, I’d love to get to know him a bit better if I see him again. But I can’t make you, or anyone else, promises.”

Louis sat back in his seat again, drained after all the talking, tucked his feet under himself, and smiled, looking at Zayn, slightly shell-shocked across from him, “Sorry mate, that got a bit heavy didn’t it. Just wanted you to know where I was coming from, that’s all.”

Bless him, for all the things Zayn could've said, he chose the perfect words, intentionally or not, “Louis man, please get heavy any time you need to, and I get it, I do, and I won’t pressure you, or joke about it again. But _trust_ , that’s not all on you. It’s not all about you being ready to trust again, like it’s something you need to fix about yourself. It’s about meeting someone, and them earning your trust, that’s on them, they’ll need to put the work in. And no one's asking for promises. Just allow yourself to be happy, that’s all.”

...

Mr. Hammond’s case had finally wrapped up in his ex-wife's favour, much to his disgust and anger. It wasn’t that they hadn’t put a strong case together, it was more the fact that he should never have taken it that far in the first place. He stormed out of court, ever the gentleman, Nick and Harry left to collect their papers together and make their way back to the office.

“So Harry, did you get that portfolio back to Louis in one piece?” Nick asked, unpacking box after box of manila files, and waggling his eyebrows at Harry as he did it.

“Yes, Nicholas I did, thank you very much,” Harry replied in his best sassy voice, undermined by the small smile playing on his lips.

“And?” Nick pried further.

With his back to him, trying to ignore the older man, Harry finally gave in, hearing Nick giggling behind him, “And what exactly? I gave it back to him, he’s still beautiful, and I made a fool of myself. Alright?”

Oddly, Nick chose that moment to disappear out of the office, leaving Harry on his own and a bit confused. He busied himself with unpacking and filing away the papers from the case, wondering what Nick was up to. He didn't have to wait long to find out, the next thing he knew, he was having a hot cup of tea wafted under his nose.

“Here, take this, sit down and tell me all about it,” and it was more of an order than an offer. Taking the tea, Harry sat on the floor surrounded by boxes, Nick joining him.

“Ok, so, I got there, thinking I’d just find him, hand it over and go. But there was a massive queue. So I thought I’d better buy something, try to make it less awkward, as if I was just shopping there anyway and was dropping the portfolio back at the same time. So we had a little chat, which was fine, actually really nice, he really is lovely. I paid for my stuff and was leaving, when…” And Harry hesitated, too embarrassed to carry on.

“When what Harry, you can’t keep me hanging like this?” Nick all but shouted, the gossip in him getting the better of him.

Harry finished the story, hands covering his face, in not much more than a whisper, “When he called after me, saying my shopping was a ‘good choice'. And I hadn’t looked, I’d just grabbed the thing closest to me. So I got away a bit, and looked in the bag. And it was a jockstrap.”

Nick’s laughter filled the quiet room, “Oh god, Harry! That’s a classic. My god, no wonder he said it was a good choice, was probably picturing you in them! You couldn’t have planned it better!”

Harry peeked out through his fingers, and let out a frustrated, defeated, “Shut up, I’m mortified. How am I supposed to ever face him again?”

Nick took a long sip of tea, seemed to give it some thought before replying, “Well Harry, you and me, well mainly you, we are a bit more prim than your average person, I would say. And Louis’ in fashion, he wants to be a designer. There’s more naked flesh backstage at catwalk shows than anywhere else. So sure, I bet he did find it amusing, but I doubt very much that’s he’s judging you. And I wasn’t joking when I said he was probably imagining you in them.

“Seriously though, if you really like him, he’s worth dealing with a bit of embarrassment for. Just get back in the saddle and head back over to Selfridges. Return the bloody thing if you need an excuse to go again.”

And dodging Harry’s flailing arm, aimed for his head, Nick plotted a plan that would make Harry’s return to Selfridges a bit more of a safe bet.

...

Back home from the pub, and settling down, hoping for a much needed Saturday lie-in, Louis’ mind wandered. He meant every word he’d said to Zayn earlier that evening. He really wasn’t ready to put himself out there again, make himself vulnerable to getting hurt. But maybe, maybe what Zayn had said was true too, maybe the right person could come along. Maybe with time, someone could earn his trust enough to let him open up to them. To date, to get into a relationship, to have sex again. He wanted that, he knew he did. And although he made himself busy, with work, with his designs, with seeing friends, he missed having someone to share his life with. Someone to love and be loved by in return.

“But for now, I’ve got you, haven't I Princess," he cooed into the sleeping cat’s fur, having taken up her place on his bed as the little spoon. He stroked her, and stared up at the ceiling, unable to shake the attraction he felt for Harry. In a previous life, before his last relationship, he would have fallen for Harry in an instant, head over heels, hard and fast. But now, his gut was telling him that he was one of the good guys, that he could trust him, that he was different. But his head, his head was determined to have him doubt.

“All men are losers, aren’t they Princess?” he muttered to her snoring form. And he knew it wasn’t true, not really. In fact, from the little he knew of Harry, he seemed the polar opposite. Stroking her fur again, and closing his eyes, he fought with himself, trying not to worry about, or wreck, something that didn’t even really exist yet.

A quiet knock at his bedroom door broke him out of his thoughts, and Noodle out of her slumber. Poking his head around the door, Zayn rolled his eyes at the sight of them spooning, "Night Louis, night traitor Noodle.”

“Night Zayn,” Louis said on both of their behalf's, ignoring the dirty look Zayn shot their way.

...

The weekend flew by far too fast, and before he knew it, Harry was fighting the morning commuter rush and making his way back to their office, fog hanging in the air. He grabbed their coffees and cakes, and made his way into the office, safely getting all the way to his desk without anyone crashing into him. He was only a little disappointed.

He unbuttoned his trusty, and now well worn-in Saint Laurent, tied his curls back off of his face with a navy blue silk scarf, and hung his coat up on the communal stand. Nick was already in a client meeting, a group teleconference by the looks of it, alone in the meeting room, with multiple voices booming out of the phone in the centre of the desk. Harry was unsure of what could be so urgent, to have Nick in so early and already squirrelled away. He wandered into the kitchen, took the lids off of their coffees and poured them into proper mugs, plating the cakes up as well.

Taking two trips to get everything back to their desks, he finally settled. He got his laptop out of his bag and switched it on, his schedule for the day popping up on the screen. Busying himself with checking emails, he passed the time, waiting for Nick to finish his meeting.

Finally, about half an hour later, Nick emerged, smiley and excited. “Just got a new client Harry, and I think we’re going to like this one, it’s right up our street.

“But first,” and he fished an envelope out of his breast pocket as he said it, handing it over to Harry, “This is for you, a well-deserved thank you for all the hard work and long hours you put in on the Hammond case. And a little extra, purely for putting up with him. What an absolute arsehole that man was.”

Harry opened the envelope, an awful photo of Nick and Pig in matching Christmas jumpers greeting him. “Well it is December now, it’s allowed,” Nick supplied, seeing the incredulous look on Harry’s face. “Turn it over Harry, come on.”

And pinned to the back of the card, was a rather substantial cheque, more than Harry earned in a month. After a few seconds, Harry looked up, and spoke. "Thanks Nick, that’s really generous of you, but you really didn’t have to though. You pay me enough.”

Nick waved him away with a “Pssssh, you work hard you deserve it," and carried on, “Harry, this is what’s known as a ‘Grimshaw Fabulous Fashion bonus'. There’s just one clause to it. You have to promise me, for the love of God, that you’ll spend it with our lovely friend Louis.

"I’ll be able to tell; you know I will. If you sneak off to Harrods, I’ll know, and I’ll consider our friendship null and void. Got it?”

And well, who was Harry to argue with that.

…


	4. Chapter 4

“Harry mate, when are you going to spend that bloody bonus?”

Niall nudged at Harry’s foot as he said it, getting his attention. They were sprawled out in the lounge, a sofa each, feet propped on the coffee table that sat between them, Niall reading a sports magazine, Harry absentmindedly scrolling through Facebook against his better judgement.

Harry looked up then, and closing down the constant flurry of holiday, wedding, and baby photos, he shifted his attention to Niall, tying his hair back in a messy bun as he replied, “Just trying to decide what to spend it on, it’s a lot of money, don’t want to waste it.”

Niall, clearly not buying it, threw an amused look Harry’s way, took off his glasses and carried on, “Thought it would’ve been long gone by now. You’ve had it for weeks. You know what you’re spending it on, just get on and do it. If you’re struggling, I’m happy to help you out, wouldn’t say no to a season ticket.” And yes, Harry knew that Niall might have splurged on his beloved Derby County by now. In fact, anyone else in his position might have frittered it away long ago. But this was different, it wasn’t just about spending the money, it was about seeing Louis again. After the jockstrap debacle.

“Niall, you know it’s not as easy as that. I really like him. And I’m embarrassed, after last time,” he trailed off, not sure if he wanted to talk about it anymore, cheeks heating up just thinking about how the last time they’d met had ended. Overall, he was left accepting the fact that Louis either thought he was an idiot, or had indeed pictured him wearing the skimpy jockstrap. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

Niall jumped up and off the sofa, and going with the universal truth that tea solved any problem, he was back a moment later, thrusting a cup in Harry’s face and plonking himself down next to him. He butted up close, personal space a concept lost on him. “Come on mate, it’s been weeks, he’s probably forgotten. And if he hasn’t, I do more embarrassing things every day, and look at me,” Niall opened his arms wide at that point, hot tea spilling all over the back of the sofa, “I’m ok with it, you’ve got to be able to laugh at yourself mate, no one’s died, it’s funny, that’s all.”

He settled back down, tea safely placed on the coffee table in front of them, and turned to Harry, expression soft, “Seriously though, you like him, that’s great. But the only way you’re going to know if he likes you too is to see him again. You’ve got the perfect excuse now. Just do it, you’ll know you’ll regret it if you don’t”

And, once again, annoyingly, Harry knew that his pain in the arse of a best friend was right.

...

“Harry, it’s Friday, you coming with or what?” Nick sing-songed, shutting down his laptop and zipping up his, quite frankly, questionable bright orange padded gilet. It was Gucci, of course, but as far as Harry was concerned, a name didn’t automatically make for a good look. Not that he’d ever burst Nick’s bubble on that front. If it made him happy, and didn’t harm anything other than his bank balance, then so be it.

Harry replied, not looking up, eyes trained on the screen in front of him, hoping Nick would let it go. He had a plan, and it didn’t involve Nick tagging along, “Nah, can’t today, need to finish up here. Meeting Gemma after I’m done, going out for an early dinner. Another time though, promise.” Nick dropped the subject, thankfully, albeit with a somewhat knowing look, and he and his hideous gilet left in a flurry of ‘ok, whatever you say’ and ‘you can’t put it off forever’.

Left alone in the office, free from anyone else to harass him, Harry decided he’d give it a couple of hours, give Nick long enough to get his fashion fix. Then, once he was sure the coast was clear, he’d do what he’d been putting off for too long. And finally, he actually felt ok, in fact, he felt excited by the thought of it.

...

Louis was many things, but he wasn’t a liar, not even to himself. So he was willing to accept that he was disappointed to see Nick striding into the department. And it had nothing to do with the orange monstrosity he was currently sporting. No, it was the fact that Nick was alone. It’d been three weeks since Harry’s last visit, and each time Friday rolled around, Louis had secretly hoped he might show up again, on his own, or with Nick. But no, third Friday in a row and still no Harry.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Louis shuddered, and shaking his head in dismay, waited, poking Nick in the chest when he got close enough, scrunching his nose up in mock disgust. He ranted on, feeling the shiny fabric, “Nicholas, it’s been two years, I thought I’d taught you better than this.” He was smiling widely, making it clear that he was, for the most part, teasing, “You do know that just because something’s designer, it doesn’t mean you’re compelled to buy it.”

Knocking Louis’ hand away from where it was still inspecting the padded fabric, Nick stood, chest puffed out, hands on his hips, and in his best dramatic flourish, defended his fashion choices. “Well Louis, for one, no-one speaks ill of Gucci, you should know that. And two, the ability to carry off orange is a rare one. I’m genetically blessed, and I’m going to make the most of it.”

Nick unzipped the offending item, and took it off, fanning himself, hot under the lights, and from the drama he’d created, “To be honest, that’s crap and I know it, it’s hideous. Got it in the sale when I was in the US, must’ve been high from the ‘bargain fashion’ fumes. But yeah, the UK’s too grey to carry it off. To be brave is to fail sometimes I suppose.”

Full on fashion fall-out averted, Nick led Louis towards the shoe selection, this time picking his brains on the comparative beauty of Ferragamo Oxford's, versus a nearly identical black pair by Tom Ford. He decided, after a rather protracted and lengthy discussion, that there wasn’t much to choose between them, and plumped for the Tom Ford’s, rationalising that taking the aesthetic appeal of the designers themselves into account, pushed the balance in Ford’s favour. And Louis couldn’t really dispute that. Although, and he told Nick as much, the fact that Ferragamo had been dead and six feet under for more than fifty years, gave Tom a bit of an unfair advantage in his opinion.

Almost ready to leave, his Oxford’s safely boxed up and paid for, Nick stopped and decided to remind Louis of a certain person, just in case. “Oh Louis, I think Harry’s going to come in again soon, have a proper shop this time. Earned himself a bonus the other week. And I told him he needs to spend it here.” After a pause, he carried on, far too loudly, “In your capable hands.” Waggling his eyebrows as he said it, and beaming with barely hidden glee, Nick realised in that moment, if the suspicious look Louis was giving him was anything to go by, that he’d never make a very discreet match-maker.

Shooing Nick away and out of the department, Louis tried to calm the heat he could feel creeping up his neck, taking a long gulp of the water he kept under the counter. He closed his eyes for a second, knowing there were no other customers around, and tried to push images of Harry ‘in his capable hands’, as Nick had so eloquently put it, out of his mind.

He finally felt a little calmer, and just about ready to face the rest of the day, when the tell-tale tap, tap, tap, of Sophia’s high heels made her presence known. He sighed, muttering, "Fuck's sake" under his breath, and kept his eyes closed, hoping that somehow, if he stayed there, eyes shut, not acknowledging her presence, that Sophia would just miraculously disappear. No such luck.

“Lou Lou,” and Sophia was sharing his space now, butted up next to him, and nudging him with her boney elbow, determined to get a response. “Lou, who’s Harry? And why did you come over all red and flustered when Nick left?” She asked, amusement and mischief clear in her voice.

With no answers forthcoming, and seemingly not needing confirmation from Louis, Sophia ploughed on. “If I’m correct, which I normally am, I’d say you have a pretty serious crush on this Harry, whoever he is.”

Louis thumped his head back against the cold, marble pillar he was resting against, and sent a silent prayer to the universe. The fact that Sophia had no clue who Harry was, and wouldn’t recognise him if he did indeed pay Louis a visit, was his one small saving grace.

...

Louis felt like a bit of a creep. He’d spotted Harry as soon as he’d walked in, and had been watching him ever since. Multi-tasking and serving customers too, but watching him none the less. And he was even more gorgeous than he’d remembered. His hair pulled back into a messy bun this time around, small tendrils escaping and curling at the back of his neck and at his temples. His skin pale and creamy, cheeks flushed from coming in from the biting wind outside. Long legs encased in dark blue skinny jeans, tan suede ankle boots with a slight heel. All wrapped up in a luxurious-looking navy blue coat that fit perfectly across his broad shoulders, left open to show the indigo blue t-shirt he had on underneath. Louis had to admit it, he was breath-taking. An oddly endearing combination of tall and broad, but somehow soft and delicate looking at the same time.  

He could see Harry, moving around the racks of clothes and mannequins, stopping now and again to look at an item more closely, or feel the fabric, before moving on. He’d almost done a whole loop of the floor, and was starting to head back in Louis’ direction. He resisted the urge to hide under the counter, or run away into the stockroom, and held his ground, willing himself to calm down, fingers tingling, conscious of his heart beating harder and faster than normal.

Harry looked up and spotted him straightaway, smiling hard, dimples popping. Trying to wave, but realising his arms were full of clothes, he let out an awkward, “Hi, nice to see you again,” before turning away, in the direction of the changing rooms.

And no, Louis wasn’t going to let that be the extent of it, not after he'd waited for weeks to see Harry again. Dashing after him, Louis caught up and tapped him on the back, getting his attention, and tried hard not to do something stupid like blush, or go all crinkly-eyed. He simply pointed at the clothes and said, “Saw you come in, didn’t realise you’d found so much you liked. That’s good. Do you want to use the other changing room, it’s bigger? It’ll give you more room, and the lighting’s better.”

Harry looked at him cautiously, not sure he trusted himself to speak, and tried to think of something to say that wasn’t ‘I think you’re so pretty.’ When he did eventually speak, he could hear the tremble in his own voice, “Are you sure, isn’t that for people that’ve made appointments? I’m fine in a normal one.”

Doing instead of speaking, Louis scooped the clothes out of Harry’s arms, trying not to dwell on the way his hands brushed against Harry’s, and strode off, calling behind him, “Come on, I haven’t got anyone else booked in today.” Harry hurried after him, trying to catch up and not trip over, unable to take his eyes off of Louis, of how glorious his arse looked in the black tailored trousers he was wearing, and the way his delicate ankles peaked out from below the hem, an inch or two of tanned skin, and delicate ankle bones exposed.

Louis unlocked the door to the private fitting room, and as the soft lighting came on automatically, an idea struck him out of nowhere, “Would you like a second opinion? I could stay and help you decide what you like best. It is my job after all, I’m pretty good at it.” Horrified but unable to stop, Louis felt himself winking as he said it. Shit. He mentally slapped himself, and hoping Harry hadn’t noticed, he rambled on, “Only if you want. Some of our clothes can be a bit overwhelming first time around. Just thought it might be helpful. No pressure.”

Harry beamed at him then, eyes sparkling in a very unfair way, dimples deepening in his cheeks. He moved towards Louis, and surprised by his own boldness, wrapped his hand around Louis' much more delicate wrist, and said “I’d love that.”

Harry cleared his throat nervously, a bit taken aback by his own actions, and took the clothes from where Louis had placed them on a plush leather armchair, disappearing off into the changing room, pulling the doors closed behind him.

As he surveyed his selection of shirts and trousers, he realised he’d made a fundamental mistake. They were beautiful clothes, no doubt about it, but they weren’t work clothes. He’d come with the intention of getting a work wardrobe, fit for days in court, and client meetings, and the selection in front of him was more suited to nights out and parties.

“You ok in there?” Louis called from his place in the main room.

Harry was half way out of his jeans, and pulling his t-shirt off over his head when Louis called out, checking on him. He looked at himself in the full length mirror, acres of pale flesh, not as toned as he’d like, and called back a slightly shaky, “Yeah, fine, sorry, just putting the first lot on. Brace yourself. And be honest.”

And wow, Louis was not braced, he was not braced at all.

Walking out of the fitting room, Harry looked like sex. Crude as that sounded, there was no truer description. He wore skinny black leather trousers, that Louis knew to be Zanotti, and a simple, semi-sheer white linen t-shirt, which fitted him perfectly. And the tattoos. Louis could see the outline of a large tattoo on his stomach, the tips of what he thought were sparrows peeking out from the neckline of the t-shirt, and something dark on either side of his pelvis, where the trousers sat.

Harry shuffled from one foot to the other, pulling the hem of the t-shirt, snapping Louis out of the daze he’d been in. He looked nervous, chewing on his lower lip, and sounded tentative when he spoke, “Well, how does it look? Trousers are a bit tight I think.”

Harry looked so unsure, so clearly unaware of how beautiful he was, that Louis had no choice, he had to tell him the truth, “Put it this way, you’d give most catwalk models a run for their money,” and Harry smiled then, but it was short-lived, disappearing as he looked down at the floor, toeing at the carpet with his bare feet. Louis carried on, determined to help Harry see what he saw, “Honestly, if you went out looking like that, you wouldn’t be short of admirers. You look like some kind of rock star, movie icon hybrid, really.” Worried he’d overstepped, Louis forced himself to stop rambling, and gave Harry a chance to reply, or run back into the changing room, whichever made him more comfortable.

After a moment, Harry looked up again, his smile back, but still small. “Thanks, I’m glad you like it, I like it. I always just think my style’s a bit too out there, tends to scare people off. On dates and stuff. And I’m meant to be shopping for work clothes. Not this.” And he sighed heavily, gesturing towards himself as he spoke.

Not sure what the hell possessed him, Louis got to his feet and walked over to Harry, stood right in front of him, and stretching up slightly, placed a hand on each of his shoulders, gripping tightly. Once he had Harry’s full attention, he spoke, “Right Harry, I’m probably crossing all sorts of boundaries here, seeing as we don’t really know each other. But three things; One, there’s no such thing as being too ‘out there’, if you’re comfortable, and like how you look, that’s all that matters. Two, if people are scared off by how you look, then they’re fools, and don’t deserve you anyway. And yeah, three, I do agree with you on the last bit, gorgeous as you look, this isn’t exactly work wear, but I can help you with that. Let’s have a look at what else you picked out.”

They spent that next half an hour or so, sat in the dressing room, looking at the rest of the clothes Harry had chosen, they were all beautiful, no doubt about it, but just like the outfit he’d modelled for Louis earlier, they were very much, not, court appropriate.

Harry tugged his hair out of the bun it had been in and let it hang in loose curls around his face and down his back. He felt frustrated, and like he’d reached the limit of clothes shopping for one day. Seeing Louis in seemingly no hurry to get back to work, he took a chance. A chance to try and get to know Louis a little better.

As he spoke, he felt on edge, worried he’d accidentally pry, get personal too quickly, and put Louis off, “Thanks for helping me with this. Not sure if I’m cut out for designer shopping though. Feel under too much pressure to get it right, what with how much things cost. When there’s so many other things I should be spending it on, like student debt. Do you know what I mean?”

He wasn’t expecting the very honest answer Louis gave him, “Yeah, working here, I know I should be encouraging people to spend loads of money. Some of the regulars have thousands to spend every time they come in, fritter it away likes it’s nothing. Other times, you can tell, it’s a treat, like birthday money or something. But, clothes, no matter how stunning they are, are not worth going without for.

“It’s fine now, but growing up, we knew what it was like to be hard-up. It was never dire, but my mum was on her own, raising us. So yeah, I know what it’s like to feel guilty for spending money, even if you’ve got it, and you’re ok off. Partly why I got into making my own clothes really. And agreed, student debt’s a bitch, glad when I managed to pay it off and not have to think about it ever again.”

With Louis so genuine, Harry could only really return it, with honesty and openness himself, “Mine’s not paid off yet, but I’m getting there, couple more years at most. It’s worth it though. Mum could never have afforded to put me through Uni, and then Law School. She was on her own too, bringing me and Gem, my sister, up. And I love what I do now, and it makes her so proud, so, it’s got to be done I suppose.”

Louis just nodded, face soft and relaxed, he'd enjoyed Harry’s company, as well as finding out more about him. He looked at his phone, and noticing the time, he shifted, ready to stand and get back out on to the shop floor. The light touch of a large hand on his bicep halted him in his tracks.

When Harry spoke, it was with a strange mix of apprehension and hope, “Can I ask a massive favour? You don’t have to say yes, I’d totally understand if you’re too busy, or just don’t want to, but I just thought I’d ask. Could you make me something? Some clothes? Your designs were so good, so beautiful.

“And the clothes here are all lovely, but yeah. I think I’m odd. I think finding a mix of something formal, but not too conventional is going to be really hard for me. Just thought, if you wanted to. Maybe I could be a new project. I’d pay you of course. Well with Nick’s money.”

Louis laughed, and placed his hand over Harry’s where it was still on his arm. He was sure they were both mostly likely crossing unspoken lines, for two people who barely knew each other, but he didn’t care, “Bloody hell Harry, wondered what you were going to ask me the way you built that up. But yes, of course I’ll make you something. We’ll need to meet up for a consultation, and I can email you the sketches, but you’ll need to come to my place for fittings. I don’t have a studio space or anything. So yeah, if that all sounds ok, I’d love to. And the fact that it’s Nick’s money makes it even better. He’s got enough shoes to last him a lifetime.”

They exchanged mobile numbers so they could discuss design ideas, and Harry helped Louis carry the clothes he’d tried on back to the counter. As he left, he felt overwhelmed with how well everything had gone, and amazed that he currently had Louis’ mobile number burning a hole in his pocket.

…

Arms full of clothes, Louis got to work returning all of Harry’s items to where they belonged. His mind drifted to the sight of him in those leather trousers, the way his legs had looked, strong and lean, and his chest, almost visible through the sheer fabric of the t-shirt. He wanted to see those tattoos, hadn’t wanted anything so physically for a very long time. The conversation they’d had played over in his mind too. The fact that they barely knew each other, but had felt comfortable enough to open up about some fairly personal topics, lingered, feeling like it meant something significant.

He walked back to his counter, and didn’t notice Sophia until it was too late. She was leaning against the marble desk, a vision in black, A-line wool shift dress this time, three-quarter length sleeves, horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, prim, like butter wouldn’t melt. But Louis knew better. He knew he was in for a grilling. Knew that he was busted.

He squeezed past her, and pulled out a ring binder from under the counter, flipping through it distractedly, looking at future schemes for layouts in the department. Not sure why he was trying to delay the inevitable, he carried on flipping the pages, not really paying attention to the contents.

Clearly, Sophia had reached her limits in terms of self-restraint, she sidled up next to him and placed a perfectly manicured hand on top of his, stilling his movements. He looked at her and steeled himself.

“Lou Lou, who was that you were with earlier?”

He didn't reply, so she carried on her interrogation, “Didn’t think you had any appointments this afternoon. You were in there for ages and he didn’t buy anything. You seemed awfully cosy. Anything you want to tell me about?”

And no, not really, “Just a customer, and no he didn’t have an appointment, but I was free, and he seemed like he needed some help,” Louis could feel a traitorous blush creeping up his neck and on to his face. He broke eye contact, rummaging under the counter for his water, finally he found it, and took a large gulp, trying to buy some time, and calm himself down.

“Lou Lou, I know you, and I know when you’re trying to lie, you’re rubbish at it. That was Harry wasn’t it?” Louis just turned a deeper shade of red, giving himself even further away. Noticing, Sophia carried on, “It’s ok to like someone Lou. He seemed nice. Lovely hair. He was looking at you all softly, I think he likes you too.”

As he crossed his arms in front of himself, Louis knew he probably didn’t look as intimidating as he was aiming for, but went with it anyway, “Yes Sophia, that was Harry, he was a bit out of his depth and needed some help. I barely know him, but yes, he does seem nice. And before you start marrying me off, I have eyes, I can see that he’s good looking, but I’m not into relationships at the moment, you know that.”

Sophia looking unconvinced, he delivered what he hoped would be the knockout blow, “Oh, and by the way, did you have fun with Liam today, saw you in the canteen at lunch, didn’t want to intrude. Didn’t know you were such good friends.”

And he’d never seen Sophia move so fast, speed walking away from him, muttering something about urgent stock level checks that he knew was utter bullshit.

...

“Niall, he’s so pretty, and so lovely, and his ankles are so delicate. And his hair, and his hands, and his mind. It’s not fair.”

Harry was very, very, drunk and it was entirely Niall’s fault. They’d started at their local pub, plans for food and a couple of pints, but Harry had started going on, and on about Louis. And Niall had decided that their options were; go home, grab some ice cream and snuggle up together watching Masterchef reruns, or; drag Harry to the nearest club and get him drunk enough that he’d shut up.

Well, that plan had back-fired spectacularly. They were in a dodgy club, and Niall had a very drunk, very sloppy Harry, hanging off of him, still ranting on and on about Louis. Seemingly each and every part of him could be described in detail with the aid of flowery adjectives.

“Harry, please, I get it, you like him, now shut up. Let’s get you some water, and I need another drink.” Dragging Harry to the bar and propping him up against it, Niall ordered and downed two shots, trying to dull the pain of Harry’s tribute to all things Louis. He felt the burn of the alcohol warming his chest, and calming down a little with it, he realised Harry had gone strangely quiet. Niall turned away from the bar, and back to his friend, who was slumped on a bar stool, he could see him, clumsily fiddling with his phone, face lit up by the screen.

“Harry mate, want me to look after that? Don’t want to lose it. They’re a bugger to get replaced. You’ll lose all your contacts.”

Harry shook his head, and smiled big, dimples deepening, replying, only slurring a little, “No, you can’t have it. It’s mine. This phone’s precious. Got Lou’s number on here.” He tapped the screen as he spoke giddily, and standing unsteadily, he slid the phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

Niall looked at his friend, and trusting he knew what he was doing, clapped him on the shoulder to get his full attention, “How’d you say we get one more drink and head home?”

…

Harry's head was pounding, pulsing and throbbing as he lay perfectly still in bed, willing it to stop. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the bright morning light streaming into his room, searing through his eyelids, making him feel hot and queasy. Fumbling around blindly, he found a hair tie, and pulled his long curls out of his face, tying them back in a loose knot at the back of his neck. He lifted himself slightly, and turned the pillow over, laying his head back down, desperately looking for something cool to take the edge off of how awful he felt.

He lay there for a while, trying to piece together the events of the night before. He knew it’d started with greasy pub food and a couple of drinks. And he remembered boring Niall half to death waxing lyrical about Louis. Then things got a bit foggier. He thought they’d gone to a club, thought they’d danced a bit, and got a taxi home. But he felt like he was missing something. Something important. But he couldn't focus, couldn’t concentrate around the pounding in his head.

He cracked one eye open and looked around, trying to see where his phone was. The room was a scene of devastation, clothes strewn all over the place, curtains only half closed, chair in the corner knocked over, and an empty waste paper bin next to his bed. Niall had obviously put him to bed, or come to check on him during the night.

He spotted his phone on the floor in the furthest corner of the room, looking like it had fallen out of the pocket of his jeans, which lay in a crumpled heap on the on floor next to it. As he sat up, the room spun, and his stomach lurched feeling like it was on the verge of escaping out of his mouth. He took a deep breath, got to his feet and wobbled his way across the room. Bending to pick up his phone, his head pounded all the harder.

Back in bed, and covered in sweat, he decided he needed to call Niall. Attempting to leave the room was beyond him, and he needed painkillers. He picked up his phone, ready to beg Niall to take pity on him, deciding that he was officially too old to drink, and that the hangovers just weren’t worth it.

As he unlocked his phone, his stomach flipped again, this time not from the remaining alcohol sloshing around in it. Managing a solitary “fuck”, he looked at the number that had texted him at 3am. Louis. “No, no, no, what the fuck have I done.” He opened the text with shaky fingers, and prayed that it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting.

_Thank you Harry, very kind of you, I’m more of an arse man myself. Talking of which, got any use out of that jockstrap yet ;)_

And another a little later.

_I’m teasing, I’m guessing you’re pretty drunk right now. Just pretend it never happened xx_

Frantically scrolling back, Harry braced himself for whatever the hell he’d said to get a reply like that. And oh. There it was.

_Lou, you’ve got pretty eyes, and pretty ankles, and your hands are clever._

He flopped back on his bed, shouting for Niall, and as he pulled the duvet over himself completely, he just hoped that some higher power would take pity on him and erase the events of last night.

…


	5. Chapter 5

Louis sat on the kitchen counter, clad in soft checked pajama bottoms, and an old, faithful, baby blue t-shirt, glasses on, and fringe soft and falling over his forehead waiting for the kettle to boil. He felt wide awake and full of energy, despite the disturbed night’s sleep he’d had. Getting woken up at just gone 3am was not his idea of fun, but, considering who’d woken him up, and what they’d had to say, he could forgive them. In fact, he was pretty sure that his good mood was because of, not in spite of, the alcohol-fuelled texting.

He sat up straighter, and stretching, arms above his head, tried to work the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. Before Harry’s late night messages, he’d been working, for hours on design ideas that just wouldn’t flow. He’d spent the best part of the previous day, hunched over the wooden desk in his bedroom, starting sketches, only to abandon them, not happy with how they were turning out. Sheet after sheet of paper had ended up crumpled in the bin, and no matter which trusty playlist he’d chosen, none of them had lifted him out of the creative slump.

But now, and maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, he felt brimming with ideas, with an urge to get them down on paper before they drifted away and escaped him. And that was why he was up and out of bed so early on a Sunday, not even 9am and already making his second cup of tea of the day.

Hopping down off of the counter, thick socks cushioning the impact, he had his head in the fridge, hunting for the milk when Zayn announced his arrival, “Why the fuck are you up so early? It’s a Sunday.” Louis just shrugged in reply, from his place in the fridge, back to Zayn. He finally spotted the milk, hidden at the back behind a stack of takeaway containers he knew had been there far too long. He carefully reached around them, making sure not to touch what was surely a health hazard, grabbed the milk, closed the fridge door and turned to face Zayn.

“Don’t know, just woke up early, thought I’d make the most of it. Get an early start on the day.” Louis reached for another cup from the stand, made Zayn a black coffee, put a splash of milk in his own tea, and hopped back up to his place on the counter, butted up next to Zayn. He wrapped an arm around Zayn's waist, and rested his head on his shoulder, closed his eyes for a second, and enjoyed the feeling of having the whole day ahead of him. He hoped it was going to be one of those fairly rare days where he could turn the ideas in his head into the beginnings of designs he’d be proud of. He felt Zayn lean into him in return, speaking softly into his hair, “Mate, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice, but what’s got you so cuddly this morning? Don’t see this side of you often enough these days Lou.”

And Louis knew he was right, knew that he’d been a bit closed off for months really, probably a year or more if he was being honest with himself. He’d thrown himself into work, and into his designs. He’d had to, had needed something to distract him from the anger, and the hurt that he knew would’ve dragged him down if he’d let it. But now, he felt at ease, felt calm, felt the beginnings of maybe being at peace, for the first time in a very long time.  
...

“I meant ‘clever’ as in making clothes clever, not that kind of clever, not sex clever. Fuck, why is my brain such a loser when it’s drunk?” Harry flopped down on the sofa, he was wrapped in Niall’s dressing gown, seriously hungover and feeling sorry for himself, He glared at his mobile, cursing its very existence. Shooting Niall a look over the cup of tea he’d just brought him, he carried on, “I can’t believe you didn’t take my phone off me. You know what I’m like, I’m an idiot when I’ve had too much to drink. What am I going to do now?”

Niall sat down next to him, ignored the queasy look Harry gave the bacon sandwich he was holding, lounged back into the sofa, and propped his feet on the table in front of him. He took a bite of his sandwich, and dismissed most of what Harry had just said, he knew better than to take anything he said when he was hungover too seriously. “Look mate, I’m not gay, so I don’t know how guys flirt with each other, but, I’m guessing you do know. So read those texts again, maybe when you don’t feel quite so shit, and tell me that he wasn’t flirting with you.”

“But I said he had pretty eyes, and pretty ankles, and clever hands? Who says that?” Harry groaned as he spoke, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"And?" Niall perked up at that, swivelling himself around to sit cross-legged, facing Harry.

“And what?” Harry sighed in frustration, “Yes, he does have pretty eyes, and pretty ankles, but who says that to someone they barely know?”

Niall pulled Harry’s hands away from where they were still covering his face, and held both of them in his own, finished the mouthful of sandwich he was chewing, and replied. “Harry, I’m not going to do this with you right now. I know you want to mope, and I know that nothing I’m going to say is going to convince you. But trust me, have a shower or something, get something to eat, go back to bed, do whatever. And read those messages again later. He flirted at you. Alright? You were flirted at.” With that, he planted a greasy kiss to Harry’s cheek, jumped up off of the sofa, and disappeared into his room.

…

Zayn had promised him a ‘quiet night in’. What Louis hadn’t realised was that it would include quite so much alcohol, and quite so much weed, and the effect that would have on him.

Louis took the joint Zayn passed his way, and inhaling a deep drag, swallowing it down, letting it sit, take effect, and then exhaling, failed dismally at blowing the smoke out in a perfect ring. He coughed as he spoke, eyes watering. “Zayn, his hands are so big, and his hair, fuck, his hair, I just want to run my hands through it. And his fucking dimples, I hate them.” He felt like he was sinking down into the sofa, limbs heavy, head fuzzy. He took a swig of beer, and carried on, “It’s like someone’s designed him just to torture me. To trick me into liking him. Everyone knows, I can’t like anyone at the moment. I’m not allowed.”

He passed the joint back to Zayn, and closed his eyes for a second, the world felt hazy, like some of his senses had dulled, and others had gone into overdrive to compensate. He could hear Zayn taking a long drag, and after a moment or two, could hear him exhale. When he did open his eyes, he could see his little shit of a best friend blowing out one, two, three, perfect rings. Louis frowned at how unfair that was, and waited. After what felt like longer than it probably was, Zayn spoke, words of wisdom as per usual, “Who the fuck are you talking about man?”

Louis thumped his head back into the sofa cushion, slapped one hand across his eyes in despair, and let it out in a rush, “Harry of course. Who the fuck else am I going to be talking about? He brought this jockstrap, and now I can’t stop thinking about his arse. And he tried on leather trousers, like, who does that, that’s not fair, is it? And he texts me in the middle of the night saying I’ve got pretty eyes. I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do with all of this?”

Zayn took a sip of his beer, and passing the joint back to Louis, took his time to think through what he wanted to say. Eventually, he spoke, “I’m a bit wasted right now, so ignore me if you want. But I haven’t seen you this into anyone, anything, for ages. And I know why, and I know we spoke about it before, so I’m not going to push you.

“But he sounds nice, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but you sound like you’re properly into him. Maybe just take it slowly. Just see what happens.”

Even with his mind foggy from too much weed, and head spinning from too much beer, Louis made the call to just nod and agree. He decided it was probably not the right moment to let it slip that Harry would be in their flat, in fact probably in his bedroom, in just his underwear, in the not too distant future. He didn’t think that counted as taking it slow.

...

“Earth to Harry, Earth to Harry,” Nick waved his hand in front of Harry’s face as he said it.

Harry looked up, shook his head to try and clear it, and blinked hard, trying to get back into a work frame of mind. He put his phone down, and relaxing back in his chair, realised he’d wasted an hour away, staring at his phone, and flicking through his work emails, achieving precisely nothing. Feeling like he owed Nick some sort of explanation, but wanting to put it off as long as possible, he decided on the perfect distraction. Tea.

“Sorry, sorry, do you want a cuppa? My round.” Harry got to his feet as he spoke, and disappeared into their small kitchen, rummaging for mugs and tea bags, trying to decide exactly how much he wanted to tell Nick. Waiting for the kettle to boil, he decided that Nick already knew enough, and that telling him a little more couldn’t do any harm. And he knew Louis. Knew him better than Harry did. There was even a chance that Nick could help, offer him some advice.

Back at their desks, hot teas steaming, Harry took the plunge, “Sorry about before. I’m just really distracted. It’s nothing serious. Well nothing bad. It’s Louis.”

He saw Nick start to smile, so he ploughed on, not wanting to give him the chance to tease, or make fun of him, until he had finished.

“I like him, you know that. But I really like him. I went to see him the other day, at work. Well I went shopping and he was there. But anyway, yeah, we spoke for a while. And I really like him. The more I get to know him, the more I think, I think I’d like to at least ask him out. But...”

Nick did leap in then, not able to contain himself any longer, “Well, one, thank god for that, took you long enough to make your mind up. Two, you don’t have to thank me, but why the hell do you think I was so determined about where you spent that money. And three, I take it you’re over your last embarrassment, seeing as you actually went to see him? Good job Harry.”

Harry squirmed at Nick’s words, taking a sip of his tea to ever so slightly delay the inevitable. Finally he replied, a bit embarrassed to even say it out loud, “Erm, well, actually, I might have done something even worse since then. I’ll show you, but don’t be a shit about it. Ok?”

Seeing Nick nod in agreement, he picked up his phone, unlocked it, opened up his messages, handed it to Nick, and waited.

“Fuck’s sake Harry, do you have any game at all? Why haven’t you replied? He’s full on flirting with you. Put the poor bloke out of his misery.”

Nick waved his hands in a frustrated motion, and carried on, “Not saying you have to send him a dick pic or anything, but just reply, even that creepy winky face, just something.” He shook his head, and slid the phone back across the desk, gaving Harry one last look before getting up and going back to his own desk.

Offended by Nick calling out his lack of flirting prowess, Harry decided to share exactly how his last meeting with Louis had ended, “Hey, I’m not that bad, I got his number at least. And he’s agreed to make me some clothes actually. Going to go to his place at some point. To talk about what I’m after, and then some fittings. Never had clothes made for me before, I’m pretty excited.”

Nick laughed into the remnants of his tea, smirked and raised one perfectly groomed brow, “Fittings eh? As in, down to you pants, Louis on his knees taking your measurements? No wonder you’re excited. Just don’t take the poor bloke's eye out will you.”

And oh, oh shit. Harry hadn’t thought this through at all.

…

A week later, and Harry was bouncing on his bed, fist-pumping and shouting "yes, fuck, yes." He knew, that to anyone else, it might have seemed like a bit of an over reaction, but after days of looking at his phone borderline obsessively, of writing and deleting texts, and driving Niall to the brink with all his whinging, Harry felt he was entitled. And sod anyone else, he was going to enjoy it. Louis had texted him.

He bounced a couple more times, hair flying in all directions, letting out a particularly loud “thank fuck for that.” In fact he was so loud, a minute or two later he was interrupted by Niall, clearing his throat loudly, looking up at Harry, half-concerned, half-amused, “What’s this all about mate? You alright?”

Harry grinned down at him from his place on the bed, a bit out of breath from all the jumping, and shoved his phone in the Niall's face, “He texted me, Louis finally texted me.”

Looking more relieved than he had any real right to, Niall hopped up on the bed to join him, grabbing hold of both of Harry’s hands, and restarted the bouncing. They landed on each other’s feet, laughing, and getting borderline knackered, Niall clutched at his side, a stitch kicking in, “Mate, that’s great, but it’s not the most romantic text in the world is it, just asking about clothes?”

Harry grabbed hold of his friend and pulled them both down on to the bed in a heap of limbs. Still breathless, he replied, a hint of indignation in his voice, “Not the point, it means I can text him back now, and he put kisses at the end. You said it yourself Niall, I’m being flirted at.”

…

Louis was getting twitchy, he’d cleaned the flat three times, including getting out all of his underwear, folding it, refolding it, and putting it back in the draw. Zayn had been giving him sympathetic looks all morning, and Noodle had been under his feet constantly, trying to help he supposed.

He’d moved to the bathroom, polishing the mirror above the sink, and lining up all of his and Zayn’s toiletries neatly. He’d even done that thing with the loo roll that they do in hotels, folding the end over diagonally.

He'd ended up in the kitchen, had already cleaned all the cutlery, lined up all the cans in the cupboard to face forwards, and was now on his knees, trying to groom Noodle, who was making it more difficult than it should have been, climbing all over him while he was doing it.

Louis was stress cleaning.  
...

Harry had the directions to Louis’ flat on his phone, he'd even looked it up on an actual paper map the night before, Niall laughing at him and calling him ‘grandpa’. He knew he was only about five minutes walk away, but he also knew he was early, it was twenty minutes until the time they’d agreed on. But he was worried. Worried that he’d end up being late.

So he walked. Walked all the way to Louis’ front door. And it wasn’t what he’d been expecting. For some reason, he’d imagined it as a modern block of flats, like the one he lived in with Niall. But no. It was nothing like that. It was a large old house, red brick, large bay windows downstairs, equally large sash windows on the floor above. Front door painted dark blue, pots of daffodils on either side of it. A row of four buttons to the side of the door, one for each flat he supposed. And there, in what he thought was probably Louis’ loopy handwriting, _L. Tomlinson / Z. Malik._ So now he knew his surname too.

He stood at the front door, his finger on the buzzer. He hesitated, nervous all of a sudden, he was filled with doubt about how it was going to go, how it would feel to see Louis again, to be in his home. So he turned and walked away.

He walked. Walked to the end of the road, and spotted for the first time, a small park that he hadn’t noticed before. He sat on the nearest, old, wooden bench, and waited. Waited, with his thoughts, counting down the minutes, until it was time to head back to Louis’.

And standing outside Louis’ front door for the second time in less that twenty minutes, his palms sweating, his fingers shaking, he actually pressed the buzzer this time. “Hi, it’s Harry.”

...

With half an hour left to go, Louis had realised he stunk of cleaning products and was covered in cat hair. Not a good look. He jumped in the shower, and let the hot water pelt down on him, standing under it and not moving, letting the heat sooth his nerves to a manageable level. Getting lost in his thoughts, his mind drifted to Harry. About how kind he seemed, how open and genuine he’d been when they’d spoken in the changing room. And about how hot he’d looked in those bloody leather trousers.

Louis pictured Harry's long lean legs, and the glimpse of unknown tattoos he'd seen through the paper thin t-shirt, the mere thought of it sparking heat low in his stomach, his cock thickening up. He took hold of it in one hand, and gave himself a couple of lazy strokes, enjoying the sensation of wet skin on wet skin. He glanced over to the clock on the other side of the room, and saw he only had fifteen minutes until Harry was due to arrive, he knew though, that there was no way he’d be able to handle seeing him in the flesh without coming first, not without getting the hot feeling building up inside of him out of his system.

Louis leant back against the tiled wall, moving his upper body out of the water streaming down on him, and carried on stroking, twisting and thumbing over the head of his cock. Fully hard, and heavy in his own hand, his mind went back to Harry, of how stunning he’d looked in those clothes. How sure his hand had felt when he’d touched his arm, how huge his hands were in comparison to his own. Louis moaned at the image, the sound echoing around the steamy room. He picked up the pace, moving his hand up and down, grip tight around his cock, just how he liked it. He let out a string of gasps and moans, and bracing himself, he spread his legs and flexed his free arm. He fingered lightly at his own rim, and let out a guttural, “Oh fuck, yes." One, two, three more hard strokes and he was coming, pulsing all over his hand, trembling, legs shaking, water washing him clean almost immediately.

…

“Yes, can I help you?” Zayn knew who the man standing in front of him was, of course he knew, he was all Louis had been going on about. But still, he decided to put him through his paces a little, wanted to make sure he was the good bloke Louis seemed so convinced he was.

Waiting, hip cocked, Noodle in his arms, he took Harry in, tall, broad, long hair half up and half down, pulled away from his face, clear green eyes, brow slightly furrowed, from nerves he guessed. He could see why Louis liked him, he was a good looking guy, enough of Louis’ type to make sense, but nothing, physically at least, that would remind him of those painful memories he’d buried so well.

“Erm, hi, I’m Harry, I’m here to see Louis,” and he reached out his hand to shake Zayn’s as he spoke. “I’m maybe a bit early, I can wait out here if you’re in the middle of something?” He nodded to the sleeping ball of fur in Zayn’s arms.

Zayn decided that he liked him enough to at least let him through the door, and not having a hand free to shake, he stepped to one side and ushered him in, “No, it’s fine, Louis’ just getting dressed. Must have lost track of time in the shower.” And Harry did not need that mental image stuck in his head, not right then at least.

As Harry walked inside the flat, he was taken by how light it was, large windows on two sides letting the weak winter sun stream in. And how tidy it was, not an item out of place, magazines in neat piles, cushions plumped and placed carefully on the sofas, nothing like his flat at all. “I love your place, it’s beautiful. No cat hair anywhere. I’m impressed, grew up in a house of cats, know what it’s like.”

Zayn wasn't sure whether to be offended on Noodle's behalf, or warmed by the fact that Harry was a fellow cat lover. He gave him the benefit of the doubt and let it slide, “Yeah, well, Louis’ been busy this morning, tidying up. It’s not always like this. Do you want a drink? Tea, coffee, beer?”

He put Noodle on the sofa and wandered off to make their drinks, leaving Harry alone. Not sure what to do with himself, he sat down next to the little cat and held his hand out to her. After letting her sniff his fingers for a moment or two, he reached forward further, and stroked the top of her head, between her ears, earning a rumble of loud purrs in return.

“So, someone’s made a friend then,” hearing Louis' voice, clear and soft, made Harry’s skin tingle, made him want to abandon his new friend and go and lavish all his attention on Louis. Instead, he vaguely tried to play it cool, carrying on stroking Noodle as he he spoke, back to Louis, not daring to turn around and look at him, “Yeah, I love animals, unconditional love and all that. Seems lovely, very affectionate, is it a he or a she?”

Louis stepped into his line of sight then. And wow, he was not prepared at all. He looked so soft. That was the only word for it. Gone were the sharp tailored work clothes, and in their place were cozy looking dark grey, what Harry thought were yoga pants, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, that was slipping off one of Louis’ shoulders, exposing his collarbone. And his hair, his hair was damp, framing his face, loose and long at the front, falling to one side. Harry was pretty sure he was going to die. But what a way to go.

“It’s a she. Zayn over there decided to call her Noodle. Stupid name. To me she’s Princess. Aren’t you lovely?” He moved towards them, crouching down to tickle the purring ball of fur under her chin. And Harry didn't know how he was going to survive, Louis was too soft, too much for him to handle.

Thank god, Zayn picked that moment to come back, giving Harry something else to focus on. Carrying three cups, he handed one to Harry, one to Louis, and taking his own, he scooped Noodle up with one arm and made his excuses, “I’ll leave you two to it, got some edits to do for tomorrow. Nice to meet you Harry.” And he could have imagined it, but Harry was sure he saw Zayn shoot a sly wink in Louis’ direction.

…

Harry didn't know how it had happened, how they'd ended up in Louis’ bedroom. He sat on a chair to one side of the room, next to a light wood desk, and Louis perched on the end of his bed, still looking soft and delicate. Harry felt like this was a bad idea, a bad, bad idea.

“Thanks for the photos you sent me. Really liked some of it. And I hope it’s ok, I sketched a couple of things, just to get us going. They won’t be right straight away. We can make changes, just a place to start really.“ Louis got to his feet, and handed Harry a sketch book, opened at a double page spread of sketches. And they were stunning. Relaxed pencil strokes coming together to give the idea of shapes and silhouettes. One sketch showed a pair of trousers, fitted at the hips, sitting slightly lower, not too closely tailored, a fitted but looser style than he was used to, flaring out from just below the knee to the floor. There was a swatch of fabric pinned alongside, dark grey with a fine, subtle, dove grey pinstripe. On the facing page was a sketch of a two-piece suit, trouser legs skinny and fitted this time, jacket single breasted and again fitted in style, nipping in at the waist, sleeves hitting the wrist bone, giving it a formal, yet slightly quirky feel. The fabric this time was deep, deep blue, the colour of the night sky just before sunset.

But Harry was stuck, stuck for what to say, he felt awkward, felt like he had words he needed to share before they could move on, move past. He put the sketch book down on his lap, looked at Louis, and eyes warm and hopeful, he spoke, “Louis, they’re gorgeous, I knew they would be. But I just need to say that I’m sorry. About those texts. I know you said to forget it, but I can’t.”

He could see Louis, see that he was going to speak, was probably going to say it was ok. But he needed to finish, needed to make things right.

“They were out of order. Honestly, we hardly know each other. I shouldn’t have said those things. And I’m embarrassed. But the main thing I want you to know was, what I said about your hands, about how they’re clever,” and he could feel his cheeks burning as he spoke, “I meant like this, the sketches you do, the clothes you make, You’re so clever, so talented.

“I just wanted you to know that’s what I meant. And they’re perfect by the way, the designs.”

Louis gave himself a moment to let the words sink in, he fought his natural instinct, his natural reaction to brush things off and joke about them. They were making a habit of being overly honest and earnest with each other, and he felt Harry deserved a true response, a true reaction.

“Thank you Harry, that means a lot, really. I was fine with them, in fact I thought they were sweet, funny. And you didn’t need to apologise, but it’s kind of you to say that. About my hands.”

And it was Louis’ turn to blush now as he rambled on, “I’m about to massively over share here, but normally, and this is going to sound really vain, but normally, guys comment on physical things about me. So for you to say that, about me being talented. It’s means a lot. So thanks.”

Louis was aware that they were just looking at each other then. He could see something soft and gentle in the way Harry was looking at him. And he was almost sure, if he turned and looked at himself in his mirror, he’d be sporting exactly the same expression. Not really sure where to go from there, still fighting the urge to crack a joke, lighten the mood somehow, he smiled, and nodded towards the now empty mug sat on the desk next to Harry, “Tea?”

…

He walked back out into the kitchen, leaving Harry in his room flipping through his sketchbook. Louis put the kettle on, dropped a tea bag in each of their mugs and wandered off to find Noodle. She’d escaped Zayn’s room and was back on the sofa snoring quietly.  
  
Louis wondered whether it was worrying that he shared most of his deepest feelings with a cat, and a sleeping cat at that, but deciding that he didn’t really care, he started to update her while he waited for the kettle to boil.

“Princess, my love. I think I might have accidentally found a good one. An actual good guy. I know, hard to believe right? But he’s so sweet, and so hot,” he whispered that part under his breath, looking around to make sure he wasn’t being overheard, “I know I don’t know him very well, but I’ve just got a good feeling about him. Do you know what I mean? I feel like I might be able to trust him, and that’s hard for us, isn’t it?”

He heard the kettle boil, and stroked her once on her side, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. Teas in hand, he headed back to his room, and Harry, feeling like maybe it was safe to let his heart go a little, to get to know him better. 

...


	6. Chapter 6

Harry’s face was aching. His first Louis-related injury.

After his nerves had settled, he’d spent hours laughing and smiling non-stop. It wasn’t that Louis had even said anything that funny. It was just everything about him, the way he cooed over Princess, picking her up and spinning her around, kissing her podgy belly; the spiky way he’d sent Zayn packing when he’d dared to interrupt their ‘consultation’; the very fact Louis had termed them sitting on his bed, flicking through fashion magazines as a ‘consultation’ at all.

Harry was hopelessly endeared, caught, hook, line and sinker, by everything he knew about a man he still hardly knew at all. He wanted to know more. Wanted to know all of it. Everything about Louis was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. Harry was gone, and he knew it, and he was glad.

He walked back home along the Thames Path, deciding to give the tube a miss. All around him, families milled about, feeding the ducks, eating hot chestnuts, wrapped up in shades of grey, trying to fend off the chill in the air. Couples, there were couples everywhere. Snuggled up next to each other on a park bench, sharing a coffee, stopping and taking selfies, each pair safe in the attention the other was giving them. And for once, Harry could look at them and smile. He could see what they had, the happiness they found in each other and be pleased for them, rather than jealous. It wasn’t a trait he was proud of, but he knew it was there, years of being mainly alone had allowed it to creep in and take root. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that what he and Louis had, it wasn’t really anything. Not yet. But even the possibilities it brought, the feelings it had stirred in him, they were enough. Enough to make him happy, make him believe that he could maybe find that security, that bond he saw in other couples, that deep-seated love. And that was more than enough for now.

He walked on, the Thames and the tourists long gone, pulling his coat around himself more tightly, he turned the collar up to protect himself from the biting December wind. He saw his block of flats in the distance, a tall building standing head and shoulders above the others around it, pulling his phone out of his pocket, he sent Niall a quick text to let him know he was on his way home, promising to pick some food up for them.

He scrolled through his contacts then, and found Louis’ number, he doubted for just a moment, before deciding that the fact he was smiling at the very sight of Louis' name meant he was in so deep he had no choice but to plough on. He typed out a quick text, and sent it before he could over think.

...

“So, he seems like an alright kind of bloke?” and Louis knew Zayn well enough to spot when he was feigning indifference, this was one of those times. His was slumped on the sofa, magazine on his lap, ‘reading’ as he asked Louis one fairly inane questions after another. Louis had humoured him for a while, agreeing that it was nice that Harry got on with Noodle, that yes, he did have lovely hair, and yes, yes, it was interesting that they’d both grown up so close to their mum’s. But enough was enough.

“Malik, spit it out, or give it a fucking rest. I thought it was me that was meant to have a ‘crush’ on Harry, not you. Going to start getting jealous here you know.” And Louis prodded Zayn’s foot with his own, from where he was perched at the other end of the sofa, ginger and white ball of fluff sleeping on his lap.

Zayn put the magazine down and fixed Louis with a knowing look, verging on smug, he took a drag on the cigarette he was holding before he spoke, “Well, I’ve met him now, haven’t I? And yeah, seems like a good bloke. And a ‘crush’ eh? Last time you were all about how someone was tricking you into liking him. Fighting it. Saying you ‘weren’t allowed’ to like anyone.

“Like it or not mate, your brain doesn’t seem to give a shit about what you’re trying to tell it. Pretty sure there’s only one way this is going to end.”

And Louis wanted to disagree, wanted to tell Zayn to take a running jump, to tell him that he didn’t know what he was talking about. But well, that would be a lie. At this point, he was pretty sure that unless he never saw Harry again, which wasn’t an option, that Zayn was right, there was only one way this was going to end.

His phone buzzing over and over again in his pocket broke him out of the slight internal crisis he was having. He kicked Zayn once more for good measure, earning an ‘ouch’ from the other man, and a one-eyed sleepy look from Noodle, rummaging in his yoga pants, he found his phone.

And a few second passed before, “Oh my fucking god, he’s too much, I swear, he’s trying to fucking kill me.” Louis stood, Noodle scrabbling off of his lap and away across the room. He threw his phone in Zayn’s general direction, and collapsed back down on the sofa, face first, burying his head in the cushions and letting out a frustrated groan.

“Oh mate, you’re fucked,” and he hated Zayn, he really did, laughing at him in his moment of need.

Louis muffled it out through the cushion he was trying to suffocate himself with, replying, “Shut up, I bloody well know.”

He blindly twisted and grabbed his phone back from Zayn, reading the message again, making sure his overactive imagination hadn’t dreamt it. And no. It hadn’t.

_Hi Louis! Great to see you earlier. Thanks for having me! Shall we book in a date for the actual fitting? I can send you my measurements, guessing you’ll need them. Harry xx_

And then.

_Sorry, me again, I just thought. Might not be that accurate if I did it, and I guess that’s important. To be accurate. Would it be safer if you did them? Harry xx_

And another.

_Erm just thought, sorry, not sure how I’d measure my own inside leg, and don’t think Niall would be up for it. Some friend he is! Anyway, I’m rambling now. Just let me know. Either way’s fine. xx_

And the final sucker punch.

_Bye then! Hopefully see you soon. And give Princess a goodnight kiss from me xxx_

Sweet, a bit of a dork, and already in love with Princess. Louis was officially fucked.

...

“Come on, yes, get the fuck in. Fucking yes!!”

No, Harry hadn’t accidentally stumbled home to Niall with a new girl. He was with his one, true love. He was watching football. Or more precisely, his beloved Derby County. And they were winning, for once.

With a slice of pizza in one hand, remote control in the other, Niall turned the volume up even louder, the commentators and cheers of the crowd booming out around their living room. He was decked out in full Derby kit, cheeks flushed from cheering and jumping about in celebration, totally absorbed. As Harry watched his friend, he was amused at the delight a rare goal had caused him. On the downside though, he also knew, that whatever he might want to talk about, he’d be fighting a losing battle tearing Niall’s focus away from the TV.

Harry made his way to the kitchen, planning on grabbing them a couple of beers, and whatever snacks he could find. He was on his hands and knees, reaching into the very back of their designated ‘snack cupboard’, groping around for a packet of Doritos he knew where back there somewhere when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He scrambled to answer it, not sure it if was a text or a call, forgetting all about the fact he was waist-deep in a cupboard. He felt for his phone, and finally finding it, sat up, trying to pull it out of the confines of his jeans. And, “Ouch.” Harry fell back unceremoniously, rubbing the top of his head, sore from where he’d crashed into the top of the old, shitty, but surprisingly sturdy cupboard.

As he unlocked his phone, he rubbed at his eyes, unsure if he was seeing clearly. And, oh, it was Louis.

_Hi, it was my pleasure, and of course, how does Friday sound? Louis x_

As he was still digesting the first message, working out how he was going to cope with Louis measuring every inch of him, his phone buzzed again.

_Princess said to say ‘thank you’ for the goodnight kiss. And she asked me to give you one in return, so here you go, mwah xxx_

Harry sat on the kitchen floor, crossed legged, back against the offending cupboard door. He ran a hand over his face, and smiled hard, as he re-read the most recent message. Whether that goodnight kiss came from Princess, or from, as he hoped, Louis, he’d take it. He’d take whatever Louis was willing to give.

...

It was a Sunday. And it was snowing. That was Louis’ excuse, and he was sticking to it.

He was propped up in bed, under the duvet, fully dressed in tracksuit bottoms, thick wooly socks, and a sweatshirt, hood up. Somewhere along the line, Noodle had crept from her place on the bed, to under the duvet as well, snuggled into the crook of his legs. He shuffled a bit, trying to get comfy, balancing his sketchbook on his lap, and reached across to the bedside table to pick up the hot cup of tea. Feeling Noodle wriggle, probably unimpressed by him moving about and disturbing her, he lifted the duvet and looked inside.

“Alright love? You ok down there? Good, good. Your dad’s an idiot isn’t he? Who’d go out in this. Not us, we’re clever, that’s why.” He took Noodle’s lazy blink in the darkness as agreement, gently put the duvet back down, and went back to sketching.

He was sketching designs for Harry, that was why. That was obviously why. Flicking back through the last half dozen or so sketches he'd done over the last couple of days, he’d built on and refined the suit, and the separate wider-legged trousers he’d shown to Harry the other day. He was happy with them now, content that as long as he got the measurements and cut right that he’d be proud of them, and Harry would be happy with them once they were finished.

But that didn’t really explain why. Not really. Why he’d felt the need to carefully sketch each model with long, curly hair. Or why he’d pencilled in the faint outlines of tattoos peaking out from collars and cuffs. When he’d sketched before, for himself, or for Zayn, the models had always remained anonymous, a blank canvas. It was the clothes that had mattered. But now, whether he wanted to fully admit it yet or not, it seemed like the man that was going to be wearing these particular clothes was becoming increasingly important to him as well. He had an overwhelming urge to please him that went far beyond just wanting ‘another happy customer’.

His phone buzzed, wrapped up somewhere in the masses of blankets and layers of clothes. He put his tea down, and found it, somehow tucked underneath Noodle. As he unlocked it, he knew who it was going be before he’d even looked. Harry.

_You enjoying the snow Lou? Me and Niall went for a walk, it turned into a bit of a snowball fight. Soaked to the skin. Brrrr. H xx_

And, that was new, the nickname. The goodnight kiss texts had opened the floodgates. They’d texted back and forth pretty solidly since then. About nothing in particular really, Harry sending him all caps messages about a programme he was watching, demanding that Louis watch it too, how he was missing out big time if he didn’t. Louis sending Harry far too many photos of Noodle, but only because she was so cute. And Harry seemed to agree, so no harm done.

But this last message, and the nickname. They hadn’t done that before. Louis was probably reading too much in to it, but the sense of familiarity, the sweetness of it, had warmth blooming in the centre of his chest. And he liked the feeling, hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, until he felt it coming back.

...

Snowball fights and the hot drinks that followed were one thing. Fun for a day or so. But this, thIs wasn’t quite so much fun anymore.

The snow had lasted all week, settling, freezing solid and not moving. A layer of treacherous ice covered all but the main roads, making going anywhere that wasn’t absolutely necessary too much hassle for even the most hardy soul. The mornings were dark, and the evenings drew in early, night falling before the end of the working day. Harry had trudged into work each morning, slipping and sliding his way to the tube, which was even more packed than usual, before trekking through the slush of central London, getting to work each day a soggy, freezing mess. The days had passed by in a permanent state of grey, mostly due to the weather, partly due to the lack of morning Starbucks trips - not worth the broken bones having both hands full would have almost guaranteed.

The only bright spot in Harry's otherwise slightly miserable week was the follow-up trip to Louis’ flat, beckoning him through each day.

It was finally Friday, and Nick had taken pity on him, slapping him on the back at midday and telling him to, “Bugger off Harry, get home and get changed, chill out for a bit, have a shower. Pretty sure if you’re getting down to your pants today, Louis will appreciate the gesture.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure that this was what Nick had meant, wouldn’t have put it past him in all honesty, but still. Home alone, bedroom door locked, naked, hand circling his cock, Harry was sure that the only way he was going to survive having Louis on his knees in front of him, was to get himself off. It wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity.

Harry knew that Niall wouldn’t be home for hours, so he took his time. He was already half-hard, cock standing away from the fine hair on his stomach. Pouring a little massage oil on to his palm, he smoothed his hands over his chest, pulling and twisting his nipples, moaning softly as the beginnings sparks of pleasure built. Harry slid his hand down lower, pressing circles into his stomach, before trailing lower still to take hold of his cock again. Fully hard, he tried to take his time, take it slow. But closing his eyes, images of Louis on his knees, looking up at him through his long lashes filled his vision. Biting his lower lip hard, trying to slow himself down and savour it, he gripped himself tighter, moved his hand faster, unable to stop himself from giving in. “Fuck yes, fuck me,” his knuckles were white, gripping onto the sheets with one hand. He stroked himself, over and over, smearing the pre-come collecting at the head over his length. With his frantic moans filling the otherwise silent room, he came with a low, loud moan of, _“Louis”_ , spilling out, stripe after stripe of come covering his chest.

And yes, even lying there covered in sweat, still coming down, Harry was sure he’d made the right call, to take the edge off of how he was feeling before he saw Louis again.

…

Louis was not stress cleaning this time. Really he wasn’t. It was just a coincidence that the flat was a mess, and he had some time to spare. Learning from last time, he’d showered as soon as he’d got home. He'd got changed into a pair of soft grey tracksuit shorts, seeing as he was going to be crawling around on the floor, and a black band t-shirt, faded from wearing and washing too many times.

He still had twenty minutes until Harry was due to arrive, and decided, seeing as Zayn was going to be out all night, that there’d be more room for them in the lounge. He pushed one sofa back against the wall, and the coffee table up against the door out to the balcony, quickly swept up the cat hair that seemed to get everywhere, and put the kettle on, guessing that Harry would want a tea when he came in out of the cold.

As he poured boiling water into the cups, and stroked Princess under the chin from where she sat on the work surface, the buzzer rang. And this time he actually felt fairly calm. That was until he opened their front door.

Cute didn’t begin to describe it. Louis couldn’t actually think of a word to describe the level of, just _Harry_ , standing in front of him.

“Hi Lou,” Harry gave him a little wave and a lopsided smile as he spoke.

Louis couldn't stop staring as he beckoned him in through the door. Harry was wrapped in his trusty dark blue YSL coat, grey wooly scarf wrapped around his neck and pulled up over his chin, and a matching grey beanie covered his head, pulled down low, covering his eyebrows. He was just eyes and a nose. But they were the most endearing eyes and nose Louis had ever seen.

In an attempt to stop himself from staring, Louis decided that speaking was a good distraction, “Let me take your coat. I’ll hang it on the rad.”

He took Harry's coat, and carried on as he walked across the room, “Made us tea, in the kitchen, thought you’d be freezing.” Louis hung the coat up to warm and turned to walk back to the hallway where he's left Harry. But no, Harry was in the kitchen already, holding a mug in a red, cold looking hand, and scratching a blissed out Princess under the chin.

“She really likes you. She’s a good judge of character,” Louis said softly. Harry just looked up and smiled, before taking another sip of his tea. Standing there, he didn’t look cute anymore, he looked gorgeous. His long, lean legs in faded black skinny jeans, broad shoulders clad in a faded band t-shirt, not dissimilar to Louis’ own, hair hanging loose, flattened to his head a little in places from wearing the beanie.

“I thought we could do your measurements in here, more room?” Louis motioned towards the living room. “Finish your tea first though, Zayn won’t be back for ages. Want to warm up I bet, before getting undressed.” Louis swallowed hard around those words, averting his gaze from Harry, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice, because try as he might Louis was affected by the thought of what the next hour or so was going to involve.

He couldn’t decide if he wanted to put it off, or hurry it up and get Harry down to his pants. In the end, Harry just passed him the empty mug and said, lightly, “Shall I get undressed in here or in the bathroom? Haven’t done this before, you’re going to have to tell me what to do.” There wasn’t a trace of innuendo in it, but still, Louis had to blink hard and think of something that wasn’t Harry taking orders from him.

He left Harry in the living room getting undressed, making the excuse of needing to go and get his tape measure, before disappearing off into the bathroom to hide. Louis sat on the cold tiled floor, and gave himself a stern talking to, he was determined to not make this awkward. He’d done this with dozens of people, he was a (semi)professional, this didn’t need to be awkward.

As he walked back into the living room, he could only see the back of Harry’s head from where he sat on the sofa. Louis shouted a slightly manic, “found it,” as he walked towards him, waving the tape measure around as 'proof'. Just as he rounded the sofa, Harry went to stand.

And _fuck_. He was the most gorgeous man Louis had ever seen. Skin pale and perfect, littered with black tattoos that only served to emphasise the contrast with his skin tone. Legs long and more muscular than he’d realised, fine hairs covering them. Toned arms, leading down to large, powerful looking hands. And despite the rest of him being lean and muscled, his hips were softer, crying out for Louis to sink to his knees and suck bruises onto them.

Louis held on to the tape measure for dear life, his sweaty palms threatening to betray him. He forced his brain to mouth filter to kick in, saying, with only a slightly hysterical tinge to it, “Right then, let’s make a start.”

Pencil between his lips, notebook on the sofa next to him, Louis learnt that Harry was good at, and very willing to take orders. Every, “Arms up, that’s right, just a little bit straighter,” or, “Stand up really straight, need to measure down your back,” was obeyed without question. It all started to go a bit wrong when Louis found out, accidentally, that Harry was ticklish. As he brushed the tape measure down Harry's side, running it from his armpit to his waist, he felt Harry jerk away, heard him let out a little laugh. Louis looked up, and saw Harry biting his lower lip, trying to hold it together. He decided they were due a break for both of their sakes.

“Cuppa?” Louis said. And not even waiting for Harry to reply, he shot off, into the kitchen, making teas with shaky hands.

And then it got worse.

As Louis walked back into the living room, cup in each hand, he had to stop himself from swearing, or even worse, moaning. There in the middle of the room was Harry, arse in the air, folded in half, touching his toes, smiling at Louis upside down through the gap between his calves.

“Erm, hi?” Was all Louis could come up with in that moment.

Harry stood back up, and turned around to face him, didn’t look like he had a clue about the turmoil he was causing Louis, “Sorry, get a bad back if I stand for too long, just stretching. Shall we carry on?”

After seeing Harry, arse in the air, Louis wanted to ask about something, was puzzled and amused by Harry’s choices. But he didn’t want him to feel awkward, wanted to finish up what they were doing first. He measured across Harry's shoulders, down his inside leg, and around his neck, and they were done. Louis finally sat down, looked Harry straight in the eye, hopefully not looking too endeared, and just went for it, “So Harry, I have to ask, but what’s with the pants?”

Louis was surprised that instead of looking awkward, Harry let out a raucous laugh. And he had the cheek to waggle his eyebrows at him as he spoke, “Do you like them Lou?” And there was the nickname again.

“They’re my ‘Bridget Jones pants’, was worried, you know, about getting measured, didn’t want to embarrass either of us.”

And Louis’ face must have looked a picture, as Harry rambled on, “I’m only human Lou. Thought a bit of extra support would be a good idea. Didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing me like that...”

Louis didn’t think anyone had ever been more wrong about anything in their entire life. And he was sure it wasn’t a coincidence, the way Harry trailed off at the end, making it sound like a question.

It took every ounce of strength he had in him not to climb onto Harry’s lap, and kiss a "Yes, yes, I would have appreciated that very much," into his mouth.

…

Harry was back at work the following week, when Nick, either by accident or design, he was never completely sure, let a vital piece of information slip.

“So, how are things going with you and lover boy?” Harry threw a paper clip at him in revenge, and went to speak, to correct him, but no, Nick carried on, clearly on a roll, “You do know he’s a Christmas baby don’t you? His birthday’s on Christmas Eve. Always very bitter about it, goes on and on about Jesus stealing his thunder.”

Seeing the blank look on Harry’s face, Nick stood and walked over to his desk, “Harry, a word of wisdom for you. Listen to your elder here. I don’t know if the two of you are dating or what. But if you like him, get him a bloody birthday present. And he’ll be chuffed, especially if he’s not told you himself.”

…

The day of the very final fitting had arrived. They’d already squeezed in a follow up the week before, where Harry had tried the clothes on in their unfinished state. It’d been a quick fitting, after work, when neither of them had really had a lot of time. But even then, even in their raw state, Harry could tell they were going to be stunning. He’d showered praise on Louis, marvelling at his ‘clever hands’, telling him that Nick was right, that he was wasted at Selfridges. And Louis had, adorably just gone redder and redder at compliment, trying to brush them off.

But now, he was standing in Louis’ room again, watching the other man take the clothes out of his wardrobe and lay them carefully on his bed. He should have been focused on the clothes, on how beautiful they were, but all he could look at was Louis. Still in his work clothes, hair pushed back into a quiff, glasses on, looking slightly tired, he looked more stunning to Harry than ever.

“You ok to try them on one last time then? Before they’re officially yours?” Harry shook himself, tried to regain his composure, and nodded. He slipped out of his jeans, and tried the trousers on first. He could tell, just pulling them on, one leg at a time, that they were perfect. He did up the zip, and buttoned them, turning back towards Louis. 

He heard Louis let out a little sigh, and the next thing he knew, Louis was on his knees, checking the hems. Louis looked up at him from his place on the floor, and let out a quiet laugh, placing a hand on each of his own thighs, sitting up straighter, “Well love, that’s these done then. Don’t think I’ve ever had a pair of trousers hang properly first time round. Looks like you're the exception to that rule though.”

The suit was the same, it fit like a glove, cuffs and hems spot on. That was a good thing. It was a testament to Louis’ work really. But still, it dawned on Harry that this fitting, it was the last proper reason he had to see Louis again. And he knew, there and then that he didn’t want that, didn’t want to walk out of Louis’ life.

Louis folded up the clothes and slid them into a smart carry case, handing them over with a rueful smile. He nodded as Harry took them from him. “You’ve got my PayPal details haven’t you? There’s no hurry, just whenever you get a minute.

“And I know where to find you anyway don’t I? Not going to get off the hook that easily.”

Harry remembered then, just as he was grasping for reasons to stay, “Oh, I got you this,” and he crouched and rummaged in his bag, pulling out two wrapped parcels. “Nick mentioned it was your birthday soon, and I didn't know if I’d see you, so yeah, here you go, and happy early birthday.”

He handed them over, hand brushing against Louis’. For his part, Louis looked stunned, just staring at him. He finally broke eye contact with Harry, and looked at the presents, wrapped in silver paper, tied with gold organza ribbon. Louis turned over the gift tags and laughed out loud. “Thanks Harry, that’s really sweet of you, I wasn’t expecting anything, didn’t know that you knew.

“And yeah, too right about Jesus stealing my thunder, what’s that all about eh?” he said, referring to the gift tags.

Harry felt self-conscious, and not sure what to do with his hands, he picked up his bag and slung it across his shoulder for something to do with them. “You don’t have to open them now, save them for your birthday if you want. No pressure.”

Louis appeared genuinely touched by the gesture, a soft, tender look on his face. He moved towards Harry, and crashed into his space. Harry was sure, for a second, that he was going to kiss him, couldn’t believe it was actually going to happen. But the potential kiss, turned into a long lingering hug instead, both holding on for longer, and more tightly than was appropriate for just friends.

When they broke apart, it still felt too soon, only a whisper space between them. Louis, presents in one hand, other resting on Harry’s hip, broke the silence quietly, “Thanks Harry, really, you shouldn’t have.”

…

Louis was pissed off. Pissed off with himself mainly. He’d let Harry walk out of the door, finished clothes in hand, no reason for him to come back, or even speak to him again. And he hadn't asked him out. He’d been so close, had really thought he was bold enough to do it. But when it had come to the crunch, he’d let him leave.

He sighed loudly, huffing about the kitchen, slamming random cupboard doors, trying to take his frustration out on any inanimate object he could find. He felt Zayn sidle up behind him, slip his arms around his waist, and rest his head on his shoulder. Louis had vented to his friend earlier, Zayn knew all about the reason for his current mood, “It’s alright mate. Just because you haven’t got a scheduled appointment to make him come back, doesn’t mean you won’t see him again. If something’s meant to happen, fate will find a way to make it happen.”

And Louis wasn’t sure he believed it, but he hoped Zayn was right.

…

There weren’t too many perks of living with Niall. He hogged the TV remote, he never did the washing up, and he still thought it was hilarious to wake Harry up now and again by running into his room, farting, and running off, slamming the door behind him.

But sometimes, sometimes he was the best.

It’d been a few days since Harry had seen Louis, and somehow, with the ‘business’ side of their relationship over, he really didn’t know where he stood with the rest of it. He knew he liked Louis, liked him a lot. And he thought Louis liked him too. He was good at reading people, and he was pretty sure Louis hadn’t been the most subtle.  

He thought back to that day, in the park by the Thames, of seeing couples and wishing for that himself. With those images and thoughts clear in his mind, he finally built up the courage to type out and actually send the message he’d been rewriting and deleting for days.

_Hi Lou, it’s Harry, long time no speak! So Niall’s got tkts to the Man Utd v Chelsea game on Boxing Day. He’s in Ireland until New Year, so he’s given them to me. Do you fancy it? Don’t worry if not. Or if you’re with family or something. I get it. H xxx_

He chewed his nails, staring at his screen, waiting for the reply that came nearly straight away. And oh.

_You asking me out on a date Harry? Princess is asking, wants to know if she’s going to have to chaperone. Xxx_

Harry smiled down at his phone like an idiot, took a moment or two to think about what he wanted to say, and sent a reply before he could doubt himself further.

_It is if you’d like it to be? And tell her, that I love her, but she’s not invited. H xxx_

And, again the reply came through within seconds.

_I’d love that. And she’s not happy, but she’ll cope xx_

 

_…_

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Quiet Princess, shhh, calm down lovely, it’s ok,” Louis stroked what he could reach of her ginger and white fur though the door of the cat carrier, hoping it would calm her down, stop her from meowing at quite such an ear splitting volume. Feeling her butt his hand firmly, he scratched under her chin, fingers bare in the fingerless gloves he was wearing, Louis shot the elderly man sitting across from them a look that he hoped sent the message that he was at least trying to stop the near constant howling that had been going on since they’d left Kings Cross half an hour or so ago.

As Princess calmed down a little, Louis thought back to how he’d managed to get himself in this situation. It was his birthday, and he was spending it trekking across the country with a cat for company. Zayn had grovelled, and handed him an extra large pile of birthday and Christmas presents, clearly feeling guilty. And holding Noodle in his arms as he spoke, Zayn had looked at him with those big soulful brown eyes and pleaded.

“Louis, please, I wouldn’t ask if there was anything else I could do, but you know my mum’s allergic, won’t have her in the house. Makes me wash all my clothes before she’ll let me through to the door. And you know what happened last time she went to the cattery.”

So that was how he’d ended up here, no way he could be responsible for Princess spending another Christmas alone, coming back traumatised and quiet, hiding away from them for days. He’d caved easily, stroked her between her ears from her place in Zayn’s arms, squeezing his friend on the shoulder, answering him with a simple, “It’s fine mate, the girls will love to see her.”

Louis realised then that the meowing had stopped altogether, that the train carriage was finally peaceful, save for the muted halves of phone conversations he could hear from the dozen or so people he was sharing the journey with. He chanced a look inside the carrier, and could see Princess, curled up asleep, resting her head on his fingers which were poking through the grate, finally relaxed. He waited for a few minutes, making sure she was properly asleep, before easing his hand free. He took hold of his phone, and snapped a quick photo, sending it to the person he was thinking of far more than he should have been, considering he was on his way to see his family for the first time in months.

…

“Harry, sweetheart, come in, come in, you must be freezing.”

Harry stood on the doorstep, loaded down with presents and his overnight bag. He dropped them just inside the door, and pulled his mum into a full body hug. He hadn’t seen her for months, work and life making it impossible to get home. Holding her tight, he pressed kisses to the top of her head. He was looking forward to spending some quality time with his family, it had been too long - even if a sizeable part of him was counting down to the Boxing Day date with Louis.

He was arms length from his mum, her hands holding him in place. He waited, knowing that in the past she’d commented, with the best intentions, on how tired he’d looked, wanting reassurance that he was looking after himself. This time though, her look turned into another hug, pulling him close to her again, “Love, you look so well, so well, it’s lovely to see,” and planting a kiss on his cheek, she turned away, picking up the presents, leaving Harry with the rest of the bags. She gave him a soft look, and as she walked towards the living room, called, “Come on love, we’re all in here,” over her shoulder.

…

Louis wrestled the cat carrier out of the taxi, and tipped the driver for the unpleasant soundtrack of yowling and meowing he’d put up with. He stood outside his family home, it was early afternoon, but there was already a chill in the air and frost on the ground. He rummaged in his pocket for his keys, carrier bag of presents in one hand, Princess safely in the other.

“Lou, Louis, Happy Birthday to you,” and then, “Oh, yay, Princess!!!!” and his plan of letting himself in and surprising them had flown out the window. There, running towards him, shrieking as they got closer, in matching Christmas jumpers, and thick wooly socks on their feet, were Daisy and Phoebe, bouncing and pirouetting as they ran. Lottie and Fizzy stood in the doorway, warm lights on and illuminating them, trying to look a little more casual in their excitement, Lottie waving and shouting, “Alright Lou, took you long enough to get here,” from a distance.

He crouched down to the twins level, and pulled them both into one tight hug. He was covered in kisses, they were still at an age where they were more than happy to show how glad they were to have him home. It didn’t last long though, soon, they were wriggling away, sitting on the frosty grass, sticking their fingers through the grate of the cat carrier, much more interested in Princess than their long-lost brother.

Louis ruffled them both on the top of the head, messing up their neat Christmas hairdos, he smiled down at the grumpy faces looking up at him, “Come on love's, you can play with her inside. Daisy, you take her. And Phoebe, you can help with the pressies, ok?”

The twins not fully persuaded, still sitting on the floor, a chiding call of, “Come on girls, help your brother won’t you?” from Jay, sent the younger girls scampering back into the house, Louis, Princess, and presents in tow.

Finally inside, he was showered with kisses and ‘Happy Birthdays’ from Lottie and Fizzy. After they'd disappeared into the house, he stood just inside the door, wrapped in his mum’s arms, letting her hug him for as long as she needed to. He knew that she missed him an awful lot, and loved having him home.

Jay ruffled his hair, and grinned as she spoke, tone a mix of cheeky and heartfelt, “Happy Birthday love, we’ve missed you, and I’m going to spoil you rotten, and you’re going to let me, ok?”

Louis hugged her again in response, knowing there was no arguing with his mum, and that really, he didn’t want to anyway, “Alright mum, if you insist, let the spoiling commence.”

...

Harry was content and sleepy, curled up on the sofa, sandwiched between Gemma and Anne, Robin in his armchair on the other side of the cozy living room. The drive from London to Cheshire was a long one, and it had taken it out of him. The traffic had been heavy with people heading home for Christmas, and the car, which Harry knew he really needed to trade in, had been cold, heater long since broken.

He rested his head on his mum’s shoulder, and dozed off as he felt her play with his curls, enjoying the homey atmosphere enveloping him. He loved London, and he loved the career and life he was establishing for himself there, but ultimately, there was nothing that came close to coming back home, surrounded by the people that loved him without question and that he loved in return.

“Harry, Harry love, wake up.” Harry slowly opened his eyes, feeling his mum gently shaking him awake; it took him a while to remember where he was, not sure how long he’d been asleep. “Your phone’s been buzzing away, and it’s nearly time for tea. I need to get up and give Robin a hand,” his mum said softly. “Here, put something else on, there’s only so much sport I can take,” and she handed him his phone and the TV remote as she got up, heading off into the kitchen.

He flicked through the channels and settled on _Miracle On 34th Street_ , unlocking his phone, he saw a text from Louis, and felt himself smile before he'd even read it. TV humming in the background, he smiled even harder when he saw the content of the message. There was Princess snuggled up in her cat carrier, sleeping soundly, looking like she was on a train from the background of the photo. He read the message Louis had sent with it, and laughed out loud.

_Harry! What kind of ticket do you get for a cat? Think I’m going to get fined! And on my Birthday too!  :/_

And another message, a couple of hours later, with another photo. This time a selfie. Louis sitting on a bench smiling, blue eyes clear and bright, Doncaster Station sign in view behind him, Princess in the cat carrier on his lap, looking none too impressed.

_Arrived safely! No thanks to Princess here. I’ll tell you all about it later. See you soon, and have a fantastic Christmas, Louis xxx_

In a world of his own, Harry took a quick selfie, blowing a kiss to the camera, and sent it with a hopefully on the right side of flirty message.

_Happy Birthday Lou! Big kisses to the Birthday boy, and Princess of course. Can’t wait to see you, H :) xxx_

He locked his phone and settled back to watch the TV, physically jumping when he felt Gemma move next to him. He felt heat creeping up his neck, and braced himself for what he knew was coming. Sat there in her Christmas jumper and reindeer ears, Gemma really shouldn’t have looked intimidating. But still. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her about Louis, it was more that he wasn’t sure there was anything to tell just yet.

“Baby bro, what the hell was that? Come on, spill. What with your sappy face, and the kissy selfie, my dentist’s going to want a word!” She turned to face him fully then, expression determined. Steeling himself, Harry could tell he wasn’t going to be able to shake her off.

…

Even though there were so many of them, birthdays were still a big deal in the Tomlinson-Deakin household, and even more so when they happened to coincide with the excitement of Christmas. Louis found himself in the centre of the excitement, sat on the living room floor, surrounded by his family, disappearing under a pile of presents. He laughed as Party Poppers went off all around him, thin paper streamers dangling from his hair, the noise causing poor Princess to bolt out of the room.

The youngest twins, Doris and Ernest, were at an age where any wrapped present was automatically theirs, and who was Louis to argue. One twin on each knee, he watched on as they tore into the presents, passing them to him as soon as the paper, and therefore the novelty, was gone, moving on to the next one.

With the pile of unwrapped presents shrinking, Louis noticed the two from Harry, silver paper and gold ribbon. Louis, trapped under the twins, and Harry’s presents out of reach, waved to his mum who was sat on the sofa across from him. “Mum, can you rescue those two, want to open at least a couple myself.” With a smile and an obligatory hair ruffle, Jay leant forward and rescued Harry’s presents. Louis could only watch on helplessly as she read the name tags, and shot him a mischievous look that said they’d be having a chat a little later about who this ‘Harry’ was.

“Okay Daisy, Ernie, there’s only one left, how’s about we do that one together, eh?” and the twins looked up at him adorably, not understanding fully, but happy to go along with whatever made their big brother happy. Louis took hold of the last remaining present, a large, heavy rectangular one, wrapped in blue and white striped paper, bright red ribbon tied in a bow, gift tag showing it was from Jay and Dan. He held Doris and Ernest’s little hands in his, and helped them peel off the sellotape, sticking it to his own forehead, making them laugh.

They unwrapped the present, and seeing it was a book, the twins lost interest straight away, getting up and toddling off to find Princess. Louis held it in his hands, thumbing over the glossy black and white cover,  ‘Fashion: 150 Years Of Countries, Designers, Labels’, he looked up at his mum and Dan, giving them a thumbs up, and a watery smile, knowing that they’d always support his dreams however unattainable they seemed.

As he went to put it on the top of the pile of presents, he felt his mum sit down on the floor next to him, and whisper in his ear, “Open it up darling.” Louis opened the hardback cover, giving his mum a confused look, only for an envelope to slide out onto his lap. With Jay gently encouraging him to open it, he slid the card out of the envelope, the Eiffel Tower drawn in simple black ink on the front. The note inside in his mum’s handwriting caused his eyes to fill with tears, _Louis, Happy Birthday, we’re so proud of you, and the life you’ve made for yourself in London. Don’t forget to dream big, you’ve got what it takes. All our love. Mum and Dan xxx_

“Open this as well lovely,” Jay spoke as she handed him a slightly smaller envelope that had fallen out of the card. Louis opened it with shaky hands, and was confronted by a large bundle of 100 Euro notes, a business card for a hotel in Paris, and a selection of flyers for galleries and design museums.

“Mum? Dan?” Louis just looked at them then with big eyes, aware that everyone in the room was watching him. Jay wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder as she spoke, “Louis love, we just wanted to treat you. Have a break, go and enjoy yourself, I know Paris is one of your favourite places.

“And I know what you’re like, so responsible. Which is why I got the Euros, stop you from spending it on bills, or being sensible and saving it! Let us treat you lovely, ok?”

All Louis could do was bury his head in his mum’s neck, hold her tight, and nod, happy tears falling.

...

“Gem, don’t give me a hard time ok? It might be nothing.” Harry pleaded.

Sat there, menacing in her reindeer ears and Christmas jumper, Gemma replied, “Well if it’s nothing, it won't take you long to tell me all about it, will it? Come on, spill the beans.”

“Okay, but just listen alright, no butting in.” Harry took the ridiculous ‘zipping her lips’ motion Gemma did as a sign that it was safe to carry on. “I’ve got a date on Boxing Day. We’re going to a football match,” he saw Gemma pull a face, and ploughed on before she could interrupt, “I know, I know, not very romantic, but I hate proper dates, they’re always really awkward, thought this would be less pressured.

“His name’s Louis. He’s lovely.” Harry showed Gemma the selfie Louis had sent him earlier, getting a double thumbs-up from his sister in return, who was taking the whole ‘not butting in thing', very seriously. “I kind of met him through Nick. He’s gorgeous. But not just that. He’s kind, you should see the way he dotes over his, well, his flatmate's, cat.

“And he’s funny, not just jokes funny, but just, well just has this kind of energy about him that makes everything fun. He’s really talented too, he’s a designer in his spare time, I think it’s what he wants to do full time actually. He made me some clothes, they’re stunning.

“I can just be me around him, you know, even the awkward and embarrassing me, and he doesn’t seem to mind, actually seems to like it. So yeah, that’s what’s going on.”

Harry reached across, and ‘unzipped’ his sister’s lips. He watched as she let out an overly dramatic exhale, taking a deep breath, and looking like she was going to launch into a long reply he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. Gemma had nursed him through several broken hearts, and he just didn’t want to hear it again. Her trying to warn him off, telling him to take it slowly, making him feel stupid for falling for someone hard all over again.

Bracing himself, she pulled him into an awkward sideways hug, and finally spoke, “He sounds amazing Harry, really he does. If he’s half as into you as you’re into him, it’ll be perfect. Go for it baby brother.”   

Harry, squashed into her side, speaking into the side of her head, sounded surprised, “Really?”

Gemma gave him one last hug, moved away and grabbed the remote, changing the channel to Top Of The Pops. She finished her drink and shoved the empty glass towards Harry, “Yes really, go get him! And go get us some more Eggnog too, got to have been an hour since the last one. We’re slacking!”

...

Louis loved his family, he really did, each and every one of them. But all together, excited for Christmas, they could be a bit full on. And now was one of those times. He'd used the excuse that Princess was feeling a bit overwhelmed and needed some peace and quiet. He’d scooped her up, along with Harry’s presents and made a bee-line for his old bedroom. Closing the door, he got changed into a soft t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, and settled himself down on the bed, next to Princess, who was already sleeping, obviously enjoying it being just the two of them.

He held Harry’s presents in his hands, and thought back to the day he’d given them to him. He'd been sure that they were going to kiss, and he'd been so disappointed when it hadn’t happened. Thinking back on it now, and their date coming up, he was sure that Harry liked him. And that was a good thing. But he felt nervous too, the thought of the date, and the tension that was bound to be in the air, made his stomach take flight, butterflies flittering about and taking hold. He unlocked his phone with shaky hands, and looked at the adorable selfie Harry had sent him earlier. Looking at Harry smiling out from the screen, he felt his nerves start to settle down to a more manageable level, a more exciting level.

Louis took hold of the larger of the two presents, and unwrapped it carefully, not wanting to tear the paper, wanting to take his time and savour it. As he opened it, a set of fine-nibbed black pens slid out onto his lap, underneath them sat a beautiful Fashionary sketch book, A5 size, dark grey cover. It was a men’s version, with faint template models on each page, each ready to use as the basis for a new sketch. There was a note inside the book on a postcard. Louis laughed softly at the picture on the front -  a steaming bowl of noodles - before turning the card over to read it.

_Hi Lou, Happy Birthday, I thought you might appreciate the card! And the pens and sketchbook are a thank you for the stunning clothes, I am sure I owe you for them anyway. And sorry, but if you haven’t opened it yet, the other present isn’t for you. Oops! Lots of love, and have an amazing day. Harry xx_

Louis smiled to himself as he picked up the other, smaller present. He opened it a little less carefully, intrigued by what it could be. As he tore through the tissue that lay beneath the wrapping paper, he laughed fondly as soon as he worked out what it was. There, small but perfectly formed, was a cat collar, black satin, with a scaled down, cat-sized bow-tie on the front, black satin again, covered in tiny, silver embroidered tiaras. There was a little card with this present too, a silhouette of a cat on the front, with a much shorter note this time, simply, _Fit for a Princess, H xxx_

…

For Harry, Christmas at home was like a hug that he never wanted to end. He'd spent a couple of days getting spoilt by his mum and gently picked on by Gemma. And just like every year, he'd bonded with Robin over football, Scrabble and a shared love of cars that belonged on the scrap-heap. It was more than he could have hoped for. Much as he was counting down the hours to his date with Louis, he was also sad to see his time at home drawing to a close.

They opened their presents late on Christmas Day evening, a rather frustrating Styles tradition that his mum just wouldn’t budge on. Between sips of Eggnog, and mouthfuls of turkey sandwiches, he got aftershave from Gemma, and socks, travel books, a camera, and money from his mum and Robin.

Harry turned in for the night just before midnight, a little worse for wear, conscious that he had to drive home the next day, and that his date with Louis was only a matter of hours away. He snuggled down into the bed that had been his since he was a teenager, the posters he’d grown up with were long gone, replaced by family photos, but the room still held happy memories. Cozy, he started to feel his eyelids getting heavy. Bleary-eyed, he sent Louis a quick text before he dropped off. He knew, even over-tired and a bit tipsy, that it was far too soppy, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

_Night Lou, happy First Date Eve. See you tomorrow H xx_

…

Christmas Day in the Tomlinson-Deakin household was loud, loud, loud. For Louis it felt like it was passing by like a film on fast forward, hours whizzing by in the blink of an eye. Presents opened in a frenzy of paper flying in all directions, with squeals, hugs and kisses accompanying each one.  

Dinner, that Jay had slaved over for hours, was inhaled within minutes, crackers pulled, and paper hats on, glasses filled and emptied over and over. Doris and Ernest were in bed by 8pm. Daisy and Phoebe lasted a couple more hours, before the excitement of the day caught up with them, saw them both dozing off on the sofa, before Louis and Dan scooped them up gently, taking them up to bed, shhing their protests of wanting to stay up later.

As the evening ebbed away, Louis found himself alone in the kitchen with his mum. He helped her clean up, loading the dishwasher, and washing up a seemingly never-ending mountain of glasses. Once they were finally done, they settled down at the wooden kitchen table, and decided to finish off a bottle of red wine together.

Princess decided to join them, hopping up on to Louis’ lap, padding at his stomach for a while, looking at him lovingly, before settling down, very smart in her new bow-tie. Louis took a sip of his wine, and played with the little bow-tie, smiling as he pictured Harry. He felt something happy unfurl in his stomach as he thought about their date the next day. Less than twenty-four hours away.

Eyes closed, Louis felt his mum squeeze his hand that was resting on the kitchen table, and saying, quietly, almost a whisper, “So lovely, not to be a nosey mum or anything. But humor me won’t you? Who’s this Harry then?”

He took another sip of his drink, and felt tired all of a sudden, the day catching up with him. He didn’t feel like he had the energy really, but this was Jay, he told her everything. And lately ‘everything’ as far as relationships went, had all been bad news, she deserved to hear the good as well.

“Harry,” he felt himself smiling, just saying his name, “Harry’s lovely. We met through his boss. And he commissioned me to make him some clothes. He’s not super-rich or anything, got a bonus and decided to treat himself.”

Jay just smiled at him softly, so he carried on.

“It’s such a bland word, but he’s so nice. Everything I’ve seen of him, just seems good, you know? And he’s not afraid to be silly, to embarrass himself, and I really like that. He loves Princess here too, and she’s really fond of him, which you know, animals are a good judge of character aren’t they?

“We’ve got a date tomorrow, and do you know what? I’m not even nervous, like excited, but not nervous. I hope it goes somewhere, I really like him. And you know that’s not easy for me. But even if it doesn’t come to anything, I think I’ve made a really good friend at least.”

Jay squeezed his hand again before she spoke, “Well love, you certainly look happy when you talk about him, which I am so, so thrilled to see. And don’t assume that it’s not going to go anywhere. He sounds lovely. What does he look like, you never said?”

Louis realised, that of the list of things he appreciated about Harry, his looks were obviously on the list, but they weren’t at the top. He was stunning, clearly. But there was so much more to him than that. Still, getting his phone out, he opened up the kissy selfie Harry had sent him earlier and passed his phone to his mum.

“Oh Louis, he’s gorgeous. I can see why you like him. Not your usual type, but lovely. And I see what you mean, he’s got a good energy about him. Let me know how it goes won’t you?” Giving him a meaningful look, she finished off with a soft, “And promise me you’ll give it a proper chance ok?” Louis stood and pressed a kiss to her cheek, promising her that he would. He scooped Princess up and made his way to bed, head full of Harry.

...

They’d texted each other in the morning, before Harry had set off on his drive home. And they’d agreed to meet at a bar near Stamford Bridge at one o’clock. That’s what they’d agreed. So Harry wasn't entirely sure why he was standing outside the bar a whole half an hour early. Wrapped in his YSL coat, skinny black jeans underneath, along with a cosy dark grey cable knit jumper, navy scarf wrapped around his neck and matching fingerless gloves, keeping out the worst of the Boxing Day chill, he procrastinated about what to do.

He spotted a bench, off to one side, away from the constant stream of fans arriving early, off to get food and drinks before the match started. He sat there, rubbing his hands together and breathing deeply into them for warmth, seeing his own breath hang in the air in front of him. He was fiddling with his phone, and jumped as a light, familiar voice came from behind him.

“You’ll catch your death sat out here, even in that fancy coat.”

Harry swivelled around, smile already playing on his lips. The small smile turned into a full blown grin as he saw Louis standing there. He looked stunning again, something Harry was coming to realise he would always think as far as Louis went. Black skinny jeans, black Vans, black leather bomber jacket, zipped up with a dark grey scarf poking out, dark grey beanie on his head, soft fringe poking out to one side at the front, aviators on to keep out the glare of the low winter sun. Stunning.

He realised that he needed to actually speak, and still smiling, he managed it, “You’re early too Lou,” and he blushed as it dawned on him that he sounded mesmerized even to his own ears.

Louis moved to sit down next to him, and looked straight ahead, off into the distance as he replied, “Yeah well, I would like to say that I just got the time wrong, but that would be a lie. And I’m many things, but I’m not a liar. I wanted to see you, and I thought you might be early too. So yeah, there’s that.”

Harry turned to face Louis, and found that he was already looking at him, with something light and happy in his eyes. Harry spoke again, this time surprised by the sincerity in his own voice, “I wanted to see you too, really. So, great minds eh?” And motioning towards Louis’ hand nearest to him, he let out a not very confident sounding, “Can I?”

Louis answered by walking his fingertips along the bench towards him. And Harry shivered as Louis' cold hand touched his. He wasn’t sure who made the move to link their fingers together, was sure in that moment that he couldn’t have cared any less. The fact was that he was sat, freezing cold, in the middle of strangers thronging all around them, holding hands with the man he was falling for, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so content.

They sat for a minute or two, linked together, Louis rubbing his thumb over the top of Harry's hand, in a motion that was equally calming and exhilarating. After a while, Harry felt like he should speak, say something. He squeezed Louis’ hand to get his attention, and smiled softly as he asked, “Is this ok?” nodding down to their intertwined hands, “I’m not sure what first date etiquette is with someone I already know to be honest. It’s mostly been blind dates up until now. So just tell me won’t you, if this is too intimate.”

Louis leant forward towards Harry, closing the space between them, speaking, so quietly, it was almost a whisper. “This is lovely. And of course I’d say. But I’ve got a feeling, that with you, I won’t need to,” and brushing a cold fingertip across Harry’s cheekbone, Louis asked his own, “Can I?” And well, Harry didn't know exactly what he was asking permission for, but he was pretty sure the answer would always be yes. He nodded dumbly, and sat stock still as Louis leant forward further, closing the gap between them, and placed a gentle kiss on his cheekbone, warming the ghost of where his fingertips had been.

…

It was halftime and they were both a tad drunk. “Harry, quick, let’s get some more drinks before the second half,” Louis grabbed his hand, and pulled them through the crowds, in the direction of the bar at their end of the stadium. They pushed their way through masses of people, giddy, and excited, and after something of a struggle, they made it to the bar, red-faced and out of breath.

“Now Lou, seeing as I asked you out, the drinks are on me, as you already know. But there's more, and don’t be too blown away by this, but would you like a pie too, my treat?” Harry laughed, hands clutching his sides, finding himself hysterical.

Elbowing him cheekily in the side, and resting his head on his shoulder, Louis looked up into Harry’s eyes, laughing himself, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Well of course, I would love to take you up on that kind offer. I do love to be wined and dined thank you very much. Pie me up!”

…

Neither of them were big football fans, which was just as well. To Harry, there was no competition, Louis was the most interesting and entertaining person there. Amidst the tens of thousands of people, he shined brighter than the rest of them put together. And by the number of times Harry caught Louis staring at him in return, he was pretty sure the feeling was at least a bit mutual.

They jumped up each time either team scored, sticking out like sore thumbs, cheering for both teams. They used any excuse to touch. They bumped hips and shoulders, hugged to ‘celebrate’ each and every goal.

They sat, hands clasped together the rest of the time, each saying it was for warmth, each knowing that was a lame excuse, neither caring.

When the final whistle blew, they were up out of their seats, weaving their way through the crowds, wanting to get out of there, wanting to make the most of the rest of their date. Their hands still clasped together, each squeezed harder now and again, trying to convey the energy and urgency they were feeling.

…

As they burst out of the stadium, and into the fresh air, the effects of the beers they’d had earlier hit them. They found the bench from before, and claimed it as their own, sitting quietly, nestled together, waiting for the crowds to disappear before they decided what to do next.

Time passed, and neither of them looked at phones or watches, but they knew it must have been a while, as only a few fans were still milling around. They were content to just sit there together, holding hands and watching the afternoon drift into early evening.

It was Louis that broke the comfortable silence first, “I really like you Harry. Like, _like,_ like.”

Harry squeezed his hand to reassure him, and replied, speaking into Louis' hair where his head was resting, “Well that’s good, because I really like you too Lou. Like, _like,_ like.”

He watched Louis turn to face him, and speaking through the smile playing on his lips, Louis asked the question Harry had been waiting for all night, “Well then, if you _like_ , like me. And I _like,_ like you, can I kiss you?”

They both laughed, pressing their foreheads together, and smiling into each other’s eyes. Harry nodded, before closing the gap between them. The kiss was soft to start with, their smiles getting in the way. Harry moved the hand that had been resting in his lap up to cup the back of Louis’ neck, pulling him towards him, deepening the kiss. He slid his tongue across the seam of Louis’ lips. Louis opened his mouth and moaned into it, letting his tongue explore Harry’s mouth, dragging small strangled noises out of him. Sighing quietly, Louis took both of his hands and cupped Harry’s face as he kissed him, controlling the pace and depth of it for a while longer, enjoying every reaction he managed to tease out of him. Eventually they broke for air, aware that the kiss had got heavy very quickly. Deep kisses turned into small pecks, which turned back into the embrace from earlier, hands clasped together.

Louis broke the silence again, grinned as he spoke, placing a ghost of a kiss to Harry’s cheekbone, just like earlier, “It was the pie that did it by the way Hazza.”

 ...


	8. Chapter 8

The rather sad looking tinsel dotted around their office was the only really tangible reminder that Christmas, and the events around it, had even happened. That it hadn’t all been some incredibly realistic fever dream. Back at work, Harry glared at his phone, fighting the urge to obsessively check it. He was trying not to read too much into the fact that, two days since their date, he hadn’t heard from Louis at all.

He listened to Nick on the phone with a client, discussing hourly rates, and forced himself to concentrate on the emails he needed to catch up on from before Christmas, locking his phone in the pedestal under his desk, knowing that he wouldn’t last long on willpower alone.

As he worked to lose himself in mundane tasks, mapping out his schedule for the coming months, and organising his calendar accordingly, his subconscious drifted back to the date with Louis, seemingly unable to stop thinking about it, no matter how hard he tried. He’d told Niall all about it as soon as he’d got home, gushing about how lovely Louis had looked, about how gentle and caring he’d been. Niall, to his credit, had let him. He’d listened to it all, and he’d been truly happy for him, squeezing him tight, and telling Harry as much.

And to Harry, well, their date had felt magical. A football match really shouldn’t have been romantic, but he honestly couldn’t remember ever feeling such a sense of calm, such a sense of ease, with someone he truly liked. Harry knew himself well, and he knew, at the beginning of relationships, that he either threw himself at them, almost forcing things to feel special, or came up with overly romantic dates and scenarios to make sure of it. With Louis though, he felt like things had been easy, that they’d just clicked, both aware of how special things promised to be between them, and completely on board with it. He could still feel the gentle brush of Louis’ lips on his cheekbone, a moment that had been so soft, but that had left a deep impression on Harry that he wanted to repeat so badly. Which was why the silence from Louis made no sense at all.

The next thing he knew, his laptop had been snapped shut, and Nick was standing in front of him, unreadable expression on his face.

“This is about Louis isn’t it?” Nick asked, “I thought you said the date went well? You looked so happy yesterday. So what’s happened love, you seem really out of sorts today? Come on, tell me all about it, you’ll feel better, promise.”  

Harry leaned back in his chair, and played with the rings on his fingers, a nervous tick that he was well aware of, “It went really well I think. And I’m probably just being needy, but I haven’t heard from Louis since Boxing Day.

“I should probably just text him, but I wanted to give him a bit of space. Always get told I come on too strong, that I scare people off, and I really don’t want to do that with him.” Harry heaved a big sigh as he finished up, looking down at his hands, not sure how much more of his internal freak-out he wanted to share.

“Bullshit,” and Harry’s head shot up, not expecting such a blunt comeback from Nick. Seeing Harry go to speak, Nick held his hand up to quiet him, and carried on, “Hear me out Harry. Learn from my mistakes yeah? Second guessing, and playing games, about who contacts who first, and all of that kind of crap. It’s bullshit. I’ve ruined more relationships that I can count by messing about, and not just going with what felt right. If you want to text him first, sodding well text him first.

“Knowing Louis, he doesn’t strike me as the type to play games. Reckon there’s probably a really good reason why you’ve not heard from him. And I doubt very much that it’s because you’ve done anything wrong. Pretty sure that whatever’s going around in your head, is a million times worse than what’s actually happening. So yeah, just text him, what’s the worst that can happen? At least you’ll know where you stand.”

….

“Lou Lou, go home, you look awful, and I don’t want your germs.” Sophia scolded him, passing him a tissue from a safe distance, holding her breath dramatically as he blew his nose.

Louis looked at himself in one of the mirrors near the till and could see that she had a point. His nose was bright red and sore looking from blowing it so much. The whites of his eyes were pink and glassy looking, and he had dark circles from going to bed exhausted, not sleeping, and waking up feeling just as terrible.

Wheezing a little as he spoke, he tried to battle on, “Soph, it’s just a cold, and I can’t, the sales are our busiest time. I just need to get through the afternoon and I can go home and go to bed. Honestly, I’m ok.” A tickle in his throat stopped his protests, and as if a coughing fit was the answer she’d been waiting for, Sophia disappeared for a second, coming back with a determined look on her face, holding Louis’ coat and scarf.

“Just go ok? And I’m not taking no for an answer. We can cope. Just rest up and get better. I don’t want you ill for New Year’s.”

…..

“Mate, you look like actual shit,” Zayn said, the moment Louis walked through the door, and it seemed like telling him just how terrible he looked was the theme of the day.

Louis walked over to where Zayn was sitting on the sofa, Noodle at the far end, curled up on her own. He stroked her under the chin, and scooped her up in his arms, “Well thanks for that Zayn, I feel like actual shit too, so there’s that. Me and Princess are going to go for a nap, aren’t we lovely?” He grabbed tissues and throat sweets from the kitchen on his way, and dragged himself into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

As he got undressed, exhaustion washed over him, making his legs feeling weak and shaky. He slumped down on to his bed, the cool covers a blessed relief, and closed his eyes, starting to drift off into what he hoped would be a restful sleep. Just as he was about to succumb, his phone buzzed and lit up, the noise making his head clang, and the bright light harsh to his sensitive eyes.

Feeling around for it, he unlocked his phone, and saw a message from Harry. He smiled and opened it, despite the fact that his bones hurt so much he wanted to cry. As he read, he could see Harry’s nerves and apprehension in every word, and felt guilty that he’d caused it.

_Hi Lou. Hope you’re ok? Was just a bit worried as I hadn’t heard from you. H x_

Louis typed out a quick reply straight away, the need to sleep nothing compared to the desire to set Harry’s mind at ease.

_Hi love. Sorry, am dying of the flu here. Sorry I’m rubbish. Going to bed. Will hopefully feel a bit more human soon. Louis xx_

Conscience a little clearer, he fell into a feverish sleep, Princess a furry hot water bottle nestled into his side.

…..

Afternoon dimming into evening, Harry walked up to the detached red brick house, feeling lighter than he had in days. His arms loaded down, he balanced the heavy carrier bags on one finger, handles digging in, and pressed the buzzer. Hearing the door release, he shouldered the front door open and walked up the stairs.

As he walked toward Louis' front door, he found Zayn waiting for him, am amused expression on his face.

“Alright Harry, you here to see Louis?” Zayn smiled kindly as he spoke.

Harry shook his head, and replied, “No, just thought I’d drop this off, he’s sleeping right?” He handed the carrier bags over to Zayn, who gave them a quizzical look and nodded. “Thought it might make him feel better. It’s just the kind of things I like when I’m ill. Tell him I said hi, and that I’ll speak to him later.”

With that, Harry was off, disappearing down the stairs and out of the front door, leaving Zayn on the doorstep, still taking in what had just happened.

Back inside their flat, Zayn could hear Louis shuffling about, running a bath by the sound of it. He walked towards the sound of running water and found Louis back in his bedroom, slumped on his bed, looking only marginally better than before.

“Alright buddy, you feeling any better?”

Louis just shrugged in response.

“You just missed Harry, he brought you this.” And Zayn could tell Louis really wasn’t feeling great at all, as instead of having a go at him for not waking him up, he just took hold of the bags, and put them down on the bed beside him.

“What is it?” Louis said, voice croaky and hoarse.

“Dunno, have a look, said it was stuff that makes him feel better when he’s ill.” Zayn replied, interested to see himself.

Louis shuffled back further on his bed and tipped the contents of the bags out in front of him. He laughed softly as he took it all in, a huge box of super soft tissues, a jar of Tiger Balm for aching muscles, a box of Lemsip, a posh looking bottle of lavender bath soak, a fancy bar of chocolate, and, of all things, a pie. A Marks & Spencer _Finest_ chicken and mushroom pie.

Louis hadn’t even realised he was crying until Zayn was at his side, wrapping his arms around him. He took a couple of shaky breaths, and tried to compose himself, hiccupping laugher mixing in with the tears. He clutched the pie to his chest, in what he would later claim was a fever-addled moment, and looked to Zayn, awe and so much fondness clear in his voice as he spoke, “Zayn, what did I do to deserve him?”

…..

“So, do you think you’re ready to handle this?” Nick asked, as he finished briefing Harry.

And for Harry, the easy answer would have been ‘no’, that he needed a bit longer to build up to defending a client himself. But he knew that really, he was as ready as he was ever going to be, that Nick trusted him, and would be there to support him if he needed it. He also knew, that the only way to really, truly learn and progress was to put himself out there and do it. So instead of the easy ‘no’ he steeled himself and replied, “I am, and I know it’s a big deal, trusting me to do this, so thank you, thanks Nick, it means a lot.”

Nick smiled at him, and squeezed his shoulder to reassure him. “There’s no need to thank me Harry. You’ll do fine I’m sure. And it’s a fairly straight-forward one for you to cut your teeth on. Nothing too controversial. Here, have a look at the files and we can set up a meeting for you with the clients. Sound good?”

Nodding, Harry took hold of the thick manilla file, and sat it on the centre of his desk. Much as Nick tried to downplay it, he knew how important this was, to the people he’d be representing, to the firm, and to his own career - in terms of confidence and experience. He also knew it would take him the rest of the afternoon to familiarise himself with the details of the case, so he decided to make a tea before getting started.

“Harry, your phone was ringing, and not that I’m nosey, but it was Louis. You two sorted now then?” Nick called across the room from his desk as Harry walked back in, hot cup of tea in each hand.

He handed Nick his drink and replied, “Yeah, I think so, yeah. Thanks for the advice the other day. You were right. He was ill, was why he hadn’t texted me. So yeah, we’re all good thanks.” 

Harry paused before asking, “Do you mind if I call him back?”

He knew Nick well enough to know that what he really wanted to say was ‘only if you let me listen in’, and maybe Nick was getting soft in his old age, because he just shook his head instead, waving him away, saying, “Fine, fine, I need to go out anyway, I’ll be back in about an hour, ok?”

As Harry called Louis back, it dawned on him that they’d never spoken on the phone before, and pushing the pang of nerves down, he let it ring, waiting for Louis to pick up.

“Hi Harry,” and even from just two words, Harry could hear how bunged up and full of cold Louis was. He pushed down the strange urge to rush to Louis' house and wrap him in blankets, replying like a functioning adult instead.

“How are you feeling? I know it’s shit when people say it, but you don’t sound too good.”

Louis started to laugh, but soon the laughter morphed into a full blown coughing fit. He spoke through it, managing to croak out, “Sorry, sorry” before getting himself back under control. “Thanks love, and I know what you mean. But to be fair, you’ve earned enough Brownie points to say whatever you want to me at the moment.

“The things you left with Zayn. I’m sorry I didn’t text you afterwards, but thank you, it was really sweet of you. It was perfect, I used some of the bath stuff straight away, and I don’t know what’s in Tiger Balm, not real tigers I hope, but whatever, it’s unbelievable. Actually you’re unbelievable.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, just letting the warmth of Louis’ words wash over him, and when he did speak, it was full of an emotion he was not ready to put a word to yet. “You’re so welcome Lou. And I’m glad it helped, didn’t like the thought of you feeling rubbish with no one to look after you. So yeah, you’re very welcome. And any time you know?”

Louis changed the subject then, nerves, and a hint of desperation, colouring every word, “I called you about something else as well actually, was wondering if you had any plans for New Year’s? I meant to ask you before, but you know, being at death’s door got in the way, so don’t worry if you’ve got other plans.” 

Sensing how much it meant to Louis, Harry replied without hesitation, “I’d love to Lou. Niall and I normally just go to our local - wild I know - but as long as I can bring him too, we’d be up for it. I’d love to see in the new year with you.”

They agreed to confirm exact details over the next couple of days, Louis needing to check in with Zayn.

As they wrapped up the call, Harry had to ask, wondering if his random gesture had fallen flat, “Erm, did you like the pie? It was silly, but I thought it might make you laugh?”

Louis laughed again, this time managing not to dissolve into a coughing fit, “I loved it, and not the most attractive image, but I ate it in the bath, medicinal pie I reckon.” He paused, unsure of whether to expand on his rather emotional reaction to it. “And it did make me laugh, amongst other things, which I blame on dying and Lemsip. But I’ll tell you about that another time. See you soon yeah? I can’t wait.”

…..

“Niall, what do I wear? I haven’t been clubbing in ages, is this too much?” Harry stood in the middle of his room, arms outstretched waiting for Niall to give him his honest opinion.

“Well, Harry, you look very _you,_ and seeing as this is about impressing Louis, and he likes you, then I think looking extra you is the way to go.” Niall knew he was being annoying, but seeing the look of confusion on Harry’s face was worth it.

“So I’ll take that as a thumbs up then?” Harry asked again. Niall gave him a truly childish double thumbs up from where he was sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed, and followed it up with a, “Yep”, popping the P for effect.

Harry just rolled his eyes, and took a proper look at himself in the mirror. He was pleased with what he saw, and hoped that Louis would like it, wondered if he would remember it from before. He ran a little product through his hair, letting it fall in loose curls around his face, and turned to Niall, “Ready to go then? Said we’d be there for nine and it’s quarter to now.”

…..

“Louis, calm down, you’re making me nervous. It’s not like you need to impress him, he’s already gone for you as far as I can tell.”

Louis and Sophia were stood at the bar, half an hour early, and already on their second drinks. Louis had spent the time filling her in on the date he’d been on with Harry, and telling her about the supplies Harry had brought over when he’d been ill. And he knew she was right. He knew that Harry liked him. He could also tell that what they had was fast developing into something wonderful. But still, he felt like tonight mattered, spending New Year’s Eve with someone was a big deal, and he wanted to make sure Harry had a great time.

“Do I look ok Soph?” Louis asked, standing and smoothing down his tight black skinny jeans. He was wearing his Grenson wing-tip brogues, and a burgundy t-shirt that sat low at the neck, exposing his collarbones, hair soft and falling to frame his face.

“You look wonder-woah, Louis brace yourself and turn around very slowly.” Sophia was looking over his shoulder, with a wicked glint in her eye.

Louis turned, not sure what to expect. He rubbed at his eyes, comically, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He felt like he was having some kind of out of body experience. _Harry._

Harry walking towards him.

Harry walking towards him, in a sheer cream t-shirt, soft outlines of tattoos visible through the fabric.

Harry walking towards him, in skin-tight black leather trousers, that sat low at the waist, hinting at the softness of his hips.

He was wearing the exact outfit from their fitting all those weeks ago. The outfit that had haunted Louis in the best possible way ever since. Louis couldn’t breath. He couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there and feel himself getting hotter and hotter, and harder and harder in the confines of his jeans, as Harry walked nearer and nearer.

As Harry got closer to him, Louis could see that he was blushing, but that he also had a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Almost as if he knew the effect he was having on Louis, and that he was enjoying it.

They stood toe to toe, and Louis didn’t know where to look first. He wanted to spend the whole night just looking at Harry, soaking up the wonder that was the man standing in front of him. In the end though, that decision was made for him. Harry made eye contact with him, and smiled gently, a complete contrast to the emotions he was triggering in Louis.

He brushed a single fingertip across Louis cheekbone, and whispered in his ear, warm air tickling at the side of his neck, “Can I?” Louis nodded, transfixed, and shuddered as Harry placed as feather light kiss to his cheekbone, caressing the back of his neck as he did it. They stayed like that for a while, Harry cupping the back of Louis’ neck, Louis melting into him, still reeling from the sight of him.

A cough, loud enough for them to hear above the thumping bass of the club, broke them out of the mutual reverie they had been in.

Sophia, sat on the bar stool, looking a mix of smug and scandalised, spoke, mischief clear in her voice, “Hi Harry, I’m Sophia. Louis’ told me loads about you, all good obviously, it’s lovely to meet you,” and she leant forward on the stool, placing a kiss on each of his cheeks, leaving red lipstick marks behind.

With Louis laughing, and rubbing the lipstick off, Harry replied, aware all of a sudden that he should have probably introduced himself straight away, rather than zoning in on Louis. “You too, and I’m sorry, we just haven’t seen each other in a while. That was rude of me.”

Sophia brushed off his apology, and giving Louis a knowing look, she made herself scarce. Niall had disappeared as soon as he and Harry had got to the club, saying something about going to catch up with the DJ, a friend from back home. So they were alone.

“Hi you,” Louis said, quietly, brushing his fingers over Harry’s wrist bone. They were in each other's space again, this time Harry bracketed between Louis’ legs where he sat on the barstool.

“Hi you, too,” Harry replied, equally quiet, in their own little word, while the club pounded on around them.

“You ok Lou?” Harry asked, so gently, placing his hand on Louis’ thigh, checking with him, to make sure he wasn’t overstepping. Louis leant into him as he ghosted out the words, breathing them into Harry’s ear, “ _So_ ok. But thank you for checking, I appreciate it.”

“Shall we get some drinks, and go and find the others?” Harry asked, the second half of his question sounding reluctant.

“Suppose we should, don’t really want to though, want to stay here with you,” Louis replied, in that overly honest way he had when it came to Harry.

Begrudgingly, they downed a couple of shots, and found Niall, Sophia, and interestingly, Liam, on the dance floor. Louis made a mental note to grill Sophia about that back at work. He let the beat of the music wash over him, letting the vision of Harry, looking beyond stunning, sink in and overtake him. Soon they were dancing close together, Louis’ arms wrapped around Harry’s neck, Harry’s hands circling Louis’ waist, applying gentle pressure.

They moved to the beat of the music, the deep bass vibrating through them. One song drifted into another, and gradually they moved closer and closer together, touching anywhere they could. Harry’s hands had dropped lower to cup Louis’ arse, and Louis’ hands had moved up from their place around Harry’s neck to tangle in his curls.

Louis looked Harry straight in the eye, and mouthed, “Can I?” silently, knowing the music was too loud for Harry to hear him over. Harry nodded as they moved towards each other, closing the minute gap of space that remained.

Louis sighed into it, feeling like he’d missed this, missed Harry, after only a few days. He licked over the seam of Harry’s lips, which dropped open, inviting him in, and ran his tongue over the roof of Harry’s mouth, enjoying the small sounds he was teasing out of him. He carried on, fucking his tongue into Harry's mouth, as they swayed and moved against each other. They broke apart, only for Harry to move down and kiss along Louis’ neck, sucking gently at the junction where it met his jaw, not hard enough to leave a mark, but still wringing moans and sighs out of Louis on the dance floor.

Louis, trying to focus on something that wasn’t Harry driving him mad with his touches, took hold of him by the back of the neck and pulled Harry up, so that their foreheads were resting together. He looked at Harry, beautiful Harry, mouth spit slick, hair a mess from where Louis had been running his fingers through it, and asked, his own voice sounding wrecked with want, “Can we get out of here? Need to touch you.”

……..

The taxi ride back to Louis’ flat was pure torture. Harry wanted to touch him so badly, but with no screen between them and the driver, it wasn’t an option. They made do with sitting close, hands tangled together, Louis’ head resting on Harry’s shoulder, mouthing soft kisses to his jawline.

Harry in return drew lazy circles on Louis’ thigh through his jeans, desperate to move higher, but in the back of the taxi, it wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t matter. In their own, small, quiet, gentle way, they were driving each other to the edge, to the point where they would tip over and free fall, finally shattering the tension that had been building up between them all night.

From his place at Harry’s’ jaw, Louis nipped a little harder, making him hiss with arousal and look down at Louis with glassy, lust-filled eyes. “Zayn’s not home, gone back up north, got the place to ourselves. Want to touch you so badly.” With that, the taxi pulled to an abrupt halt outside Louis’ flat, and they paid and tumbled out, wrapped around each other, stumbling as they tried to walk the short distance, tangled up in each other.

……

Louis slammed the door shut with his foot, clinging to Harry. Not even bothering to switch the lights on, they fumbled their way into the living room, bumping into the sideboard sending a picture frame crashing to the ground, smashing as it hit the floor. They staggered on, wrapped up in each other, tumbling onto the sofa, sending a sleeping Princess scampering away for cover.

“Fuck, Harry, you have no idea what you do to me. This fucking outfit, I swear to god,” Louis trailed off, gasping out a string of stuttering breaths as Harry rocked his hips down on to him, pressing their equally hard cocks together. “Fuck Harry, just want to touch you, want to touch all of you, your tattoos, fuck...” At that, Harry propped himself up on his elbows, Louis still on top of him, and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, revealing the tattoos littering his chest.

Louis sat up, running his hands slowly all over Harry’s exposed skin. Moving down, he placed delicate kisses to each of Harry’s tattoos, mouthing at them reverently, “Someday, you're going to have to tell me the stories behind all of these.”

Kissing the tips of the tattoos poking out of the top of Harry’s trousers, he looked up, reaching out for Harry’s hand as he spoke, “But now, please let me touch you? Want to suck you off, so badly, please?” Louis wasn’t normally one to plead, but he felt like he was on fire, that he needed to do something, anything, to Harry, that would release some of the energy that was threatening to burst out of him.

“Fuck yes, Lou, please, want that so much,” Harry all but begged, looking wrecked, his words sounding beautiful to Louis' ears. He grabbed hold of both of Harry’s hands, pulled him up off of the sofa, and walked him towards his bedroom, placing scorching kisses to any part of him he could reach as they went.

He pushed Harry down on the bed, and climbed on top of him, kissing him desperately, putting every ounce of lust, and desire, and care he felt for Harry into it. “Please Lou, please,” Harry did beg then, wriggling underneath him, looking at Louis, urging him on. Louis moved down, pressing kisses to Harry’s stomach as he went, licking into his bellybutton, Harry bucking his hips at the whisper of Louis’ tongue there. Louis looked up and smiled, undoing Harry’s trousers with one hand, palming at himself with the other.

He pulled Harry’s trousers off, and, with Harry begging again, stripped off his own t-shirt, and jeans, left in just his tight black underpants. “Fuck Lou, you’re so beautiful, so gorgeous,” Harry trailed off as Louis mouthed at his cock through the fabric of Harry's underwear.

Lost in the mix of the taste, touch and scent of him, it took Louis a moment to register that Harry was speaking again, “Princess, Princess?”

Confused, Louis looked up from his place between Harry’s thighs, and gave him a questioning look, not sure he was too keen on that nickname.

“No Lou, Princess!” Harry pointed to the door. Louis turned, dragging himself from Harry, to see Princess sitting there, watching them, looking decidedly underwhelmed.

He dropped down, face pressed into Harry crotch and laughed. Pulling himself together, he got up and walked to the door, closing Princess safely outside. Climbing back onto Harry’s lap, Louis kissed him sweetly.  They smiled into each other’s mouths, before Harry spoke, “Lou, can I touch you too, want to taste you, please?”

Louis sat up, and stroked gently along Harry’s sides, “Yeah, that sounds, that sounds amazing. Do you mean together?” he asked, wanting to make sure, not quite believing that Harry would want to, would trust him enough, to do something so intimate.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows again, pulling Louis down into a long, heated kiss, fucking his tongue into him, biting and nibbling at his lower lip. He growled into his mouth, almost possessively, as he bucked his hips, Louis only able to respond with a series of soft moans. “Yeah, together, want you to feel good too Lou.”

Harry pulled Louis down on top of him gently and rolled them on to their sides. Kissing him tenderly, he worked his way down Louis’ body, licking and sucking marks into his collarbone, nibbling his way down his stomach, scratching lightly at his hips, and leaving bruises on his inner thighs. Finally, he took hold of Louis’ cock, hard and heavy in his hand, and ran a long lingering stripe up it from base to the very tip, swirling his tongue around the head.

“Fuck, Harry, that feels so good, so fucking...” Louis broke off mid-sentence into a low, low moan as Harry took him down fully. He could feel Harry’s warm, wet mouth tight around him, the tip of his cock bumping the back of Harry’s throat, “Fucking hell, _Harry_.”

Louis, not quite sure how he could concentrate, but determined, took hold of Harry’s cock, and swirled his tongue around the head, pre-come already pooling. It was beautiful, long and thick, and just so _big._ Pumping a couple of times with his hand, Louis started to lick along the length of it, enjoying the velvety weight in his hand. He breathed a long breath along the length of it, wet from where his mouth had just been.

“Fuck Lou, that feels, you’re so amazing, so,” cut off by Louis taking him fully down, Harry dissolved into a litany of sighs, groans, and little breathy gasps.

They found their rhythm and the room fell silent, save for the sound of skin on skin, and the moans and sighs they were wringing out of each other with every lick of a tongue, and twist of a fist.

Harry felt himself teetering on the very edge, the constant wet, tight, warmth of Louis’ mouth dragging him down, “Lou, fuck, Lou, I’m close.” At that, Louis pulled off and took Harry’s cock in his hand, picking up the pace, and working him over. Falling apart, and careering toward his orgasm, Harry pulled off too, taking Louis in his own hand, circling his cock, and stroking him, tight and fast, gauging from Louis’ reaction, the bucking of his hips, the trembling of his thighs, what worked for him.

“Harry, god, Harry, so close, so close too.”

“Oh fuck,  _yes_.” It was Harry that came first, streaking long, hot stripes of come on to Louis’ chest and collarbone, shaking and trembling all over, as he desperately tried to focus on making Louis come too.

Tremors still shaking through his body, Harry took Louis back in his mouth, pushing his nose against the soft skin of his stomach, the tip of Louis cock bumping at the back of his throat. And that was what did it. Tensing, “Harry, Harry, Harry,” falling from his lips, Louis’ whole body shook as he came, pulsing down Harry’s throat.

…..

“You’re cat’s staring at me Lou.”

Louis woke to bright light streaming through the windows where they’d forgotten to draw the curtains, and to Harry, soft, pliant and warm in his arms.

“Huh?” and Louis was not the most eloquent in the morning.

“Look,” was all Harry said. Louis reluctantly moved from his cozy position nestled into the back of Harry’s neck and looked. And yes, there was Princess, sat on the beside table, curled up but wide awake, staring at Harry with what could only be described as heart eyes.

Harry turned in Louis’ arms to face him, and kissed him softly once before he spoke. “Lou, I think she _like,_ likes me. I think you’ve got competition.”

Louis grabbed the spare pillow next to him and threw it in Princess’ general direction, too distracted by a naked and warm Harry to concentrate properly. “Well she can take a running jump, you’re all mine.”

Harry laughed softly as he rested their foreheads together, “I am, and I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”

...


	9. Chapter 9

“Love, it’s practically the law. Everyone knows that today’s for lazing about, sleeping off hangovers, and not much else. So come on, come here.” Louis opened his arms wide from his place lying in bed, beckoning Harry into them, as he walked across the bedroom, still sleep-rumpled, back from the bathroom.

Harry looked slightly unsure of himself, playing with the rings on his fingers for a few seconds, just a hint of a tiny giveaway smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Finally, taking a deep breath, he decided to go with it, and took the final steps back to the bed, dropping down on to the sheets, still tangled from the night before, and into Louis’ arms.

“Is that so Lou? You very sure about that? Because, law and all, it’s kind of my thing, if you hadn’t noticed,” Harry wriggled back into Louis’ arms more deeply as he spoke, nuzzling his head into Louis’ forearm, resting across the pillows. Feeling Louis smile and nod into his hair, Harry carried on, “Well, seeing as it’s the law, I suppose I’ll have to then.” Harry flinched away in surprise at the little nip Louis bit into his shoulder, and turned around to face him, still encircled in his arms. He spoke again, a nervous edge to his smile this time. “Really though, do you mind me staying? I can go home, Niall’s there, already seen a text from him. I don’t mind, honestly.”

Louis leant forward, closing the gap between them, and rested his forehead against Harry’s, rubbing the tips of their noses together in an eskimo kiss. He smiled wide as he spoke, trying to remove any trace of doubt Harry was feeling. “Harry, last night was amazing, mind-blowing really, so I’d be an idiot if I asked you to leave. But honestly, it means way more to me than any of the physical stuff. I like you. I _really_ like you. And I want to spend time with you. So stay, please? I’d really like to start off the new year with you,” and after a pause, where he placed a gentle kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose, “If you’d like to stay, that is?”

Harry answered him in the best way he knew how, by placing a soft kiss to Louis’ lips, small and chaste, before moving up to his cheekbone, his temple, his neck, peppering tiny kisses all over him, “Lou, I’d love to. Just didn’t want to overstay my welcome, that’s all.”

Pulling Harry into a tight hug, and wrapping the sheets around them, up and over their heads, Louis spoke softly, quietly, in the cocoon he’d created for them, “You’re doing the absolute opposite of that, and to be honest, if I could keep you here forever, I probably would. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little bit gone for you love.”  

….

A few hours later, hours they’d spent wrapped up together, sharing small kisses, gentle touches, and whispered words, it was Princess, hopping up on to the mattress, and padding around, meowing incessantly, that finally dragged them out of the quiet comfort of Louis’ bed.

Pulling the sheets down to just below their chins, Louis came face to face with Princess, who was standing on his chest, looking down at him with a mix of hunger and indignation that only a cat that hadn’t been fed could muster. Louis scratched her under the chin, and hauled himself up into a sitting position. Princess standing firm in his lap, he sighed softly and spoke, “Alright lovely? Past your breakfast time isn’t it? Sorry. Don’t blame me though. It’s this one's fault.” He nodded in Harry’s direction, who was butted up against him, propped up against the headboard. Louis picked Princess up, one hand under her front legs, the other under her back legs, and placed her on Harry’s lap.

Harry looked into Princess’ accusing green eyes, staring up at him, her little paws digging into his chest and stomach. He smiled and scratched along her back, “Hey missus, you know that’s not true don’t you? I’m the guest here, I can’t be held responsible.” He elbowed Louis lightly in the side, before shuffling free from the sheets wrapped around him, swung his legs off of the side of the bed, and scooped Princess up under the stomach, “Come on though, we’ll sort you out, won’t we Lou?”

Harry walked into the small kitchen, Princess tucked safely under his arm, sheet wrapped around his waist. He could hear Louis calling from the bedroom, “Harold, I am wounded, abandoning me for a cat, honestly!” He set Princess down on the kitchen work surface, pretty sure Louis would let her get away with it, and set about trying to find her breakfast. His head buried in a cupboard, crouched down, and rummaging through a selection of cat treats, wet food, and dry food, he called out to Louis, “Lou, what does she have for breakfast? Wet or dry?”

He was still in the cupboard, trying to decide what to go for, when he felt a pair of strong arms surround him, encircling him from behind, and felt Louis’ soft smile against the nape of his neck, small, soft kisses following gently in their wake. “There’s no need to shout love, I’m right here.” Louis nibbled on his earlobe, making Harry shudder, before carrying on, “It’s dry food for breakfast. She’d have wet all the time, but the vet says it’s like junk food for cats, so yep, boring old biscuits it is.”

Harry stood, with Louis still attached to him. Turning in Louis’ arms to face him, box of biscuits in his hand, Harry went to give them to him. Louis just shook his head, and pushed them back towards him, replying, “No, you can feed her, she loves you already, but she’ll love you even more if you give her food too.”

Harry caught Louis off guard with the kiss, crashing their mouths together. He moaned into it, his tongue running over the roof of Louis' mouth, sending goosebumps erupting all over his body. They stayed like that for a while, the only noise in the room, the soft whimpers and gasps they were teasing out of each other. That was, until Princess made her presence known again, meowing and clawing at Louis’ pajama bottoms.

They broke apart, Harry looking flushed and wide-eyed, Louis surprised, awe clear in his voice, “Please tell me what I did to deserve that? I’ll do it all the time, don’t care what it was.”

And as Harry crouched down to fill Princess’ bowl, he didn’t feel quite ready to tell Louis that it was the sheer domesticity of it all that had got to him so much. It was too early to bombard Louis with his hopes and dreams. Long-buried hopes and dreams of a life of cats, dogs, chickens, a little house with a garden, children, and most importantly a person to share those hopes and dreams with.

…..

“Don’t you ‘Lou Lou’ me Soph, you’ve got some explaining to do.” It was quiet, the post-Christmas rush long-gone, and Louis took advantage of it to turn the tables on Sophia for once, to pry into her love life in the way she so loved to do with his.

Sophia, poised and polished as ever, but with a telltale blush creeping up her neck, tried to make her excuses, muttering “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” and, Louis couldn’t believe the cheek of it, “Anyway, don’t be such a gossip Louis, it’s not a good look on you.”

Louis had to laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. He took hold of one of Sophia’s perfectly manicured hands, and asked more kindly this time, “Come on Soph, you’re a fine one to talk. I’m always telling you about me and Harry. Please, I’m not going to judge, or tell anyone else, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just intrigued, I didn’t think you liked Liam. And I would say ‘like that’, but really, I didn’t think you liked him at all, poor guy.”

Sophia shifted position, moving her wrist so that she was holding Louis’ hand, in a gesture that, to Louis, seemed like she was seeking reassurance herself. Squeezing her hand to encourage her to speak, Louis stayed silent giving her the time she needed. She looked around, making sure there weren’t any customers within earshot, before she finally replied, “He’s nice ok? Don’t think I really gave him a chance. I can be a bit snobby with guys, a bit superficial. I know that. And I’m not proud of it.”

She scanned the department again, before she carried on, “When you were sick, we were really busy for a couple of hours, and he came up and gave us a hand on the tills. And we just got chatting a bit. He’s sweet. It’s nothing serious at the moment, we’re just seeing how it goes.” Her cheeks flushed, looking unusually shy, she finished off with a quiet, “He’s really lovely.”

Louis knew, that despite the fact that Sophia enjoyed living vicariously through his love life, she was actually, surprisingly private when it came to her own. In the two years they’d been friends, he’d only known of two, short-lived relationships she’d had in all that time. So he was happy for her, and touched that she’d opened up to him, even if it had taken a bit of persuading.  

He squeezed her hand one last time, conscious that customers were now milling around, “That’s fantastic Soph, I’m really happy for you. And you never know, maybe we’ll end up going on a double date, the four of us!”

….

“Well, you look a lot happier today Harry, anything you want to tell me about?” Nick grinned at him as he spoke, obviously in the mood for a gossip, never mind the work that was piling up on both of their desks.

Harry just laughed, and pinged an elastic band at him, sticking his tongue out, feeling particularly giddy himself. And he would say ‘for no reason’, but he knew the reason, he’d spent the last two days with the reason.

In the mood for teasing, he decided to make Nick work for it, literally, “Well, Nicholas, I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” and lounging back in his chair, he carried on, “But who knows, a cuppa and half of that Twix I spied in the kitchen might jog my memory. No promises though.”

Letting out an overly dramatic, put-upon, sigh, Nick heaved himself up and out of his chair, darting off to the kitchen, a trail of swear words, and “You’re the actual worst Harry, do you know that?” trailing in his wake.

Harry smiled down at his phone, flicking through Facebook as he waited for Nick to come back. He was about to pocket it, when it buzzed and lit up with a message from Louis. As he read it, his smile grew impossibly wider.

_Hi love, hope you’re surviving back at work? Will you do me the honour of going on a proper date with me? Louis xx_

Laughing, Harry mirrored Louis’ formal tone in his reply.

_Why hello! I’m surviving, yes. And I would be charmed to take you up on your kind offer. H xxx_

He was still laughing to himself when Nick came back, tea in each hand, Twix dangling between his teeth. Harry took one of the cups, and settled back in his chair, waiting for Nick to start grilling him. He came and perched on the edge of Harry’s desk, holding half of the Twix at arms length, “Well, you going to spill the beans now then?”

Harry reached out for it, the giddy feeling in his chest spilling out and clear in his voice, “Well, what would you like to know?” He sipped his tea, “And no, before you ask, I’m not going to tell you anything like _that_. That’s private.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Nick propped his feet on the chair next to him and spoke, “Ok then, well just, how’s everything going? Are you officially dating or anything? Like it’s weird these days, the order people do things in.”

Harry, comfortable with Nick’s question, thought it all through for a moment before he replied, “I know, you’re right. And I don’t know really. We’re not _dating_ , but we are going on a _date_ , Louis just asked me. But it’s really early days. Nothing even happened until the football, and that was, what, just over a week ago? So yeah really early days, isn’t it.”

Wondering why Harry had left it sounding like a question, Nick decided to pry just a little more while it looked like he could get away with it. “Are you sure that’s all love? Nothing else going on?” He dunked his Twix in his tea, looking away, hopefully taking the pressure off of Harry to reply.

When it came, it was just as he’d suspected, “You know me Nick, I have these ideas of finding the one, and settling down, house, pets, children, the whole thing. And it’s stupid, like I said, we’re not even dating yet.

“And there’s this massive part of me that just wants to lay it all on the line and be honest. But I know that's not fair, to put that much pressure on him this early on. So yeah. That’s where I’m at. Like I said, stupid I know.”

Nick took hold of Harry’s hand, and gave it a squeeze, “Harry, it’s not stupid. You want what you want, and no one can judge you for that. But maybe give it a bit more time eh? Let things develop between the two of you for a while, see where it goes. New relationships are wonderful, but they haven’t got deep foundations to start with, they can’t take too much pressure.”

And nodding, Harry felt like Nick was talking from experience.

……..

Harry pulled on his coat, and re-read the text Louis had sent him earlier that morning.

_Morning love! Meet you at Mansion House tube station at 11? Wrap up warm. Louis xx_

He didn’t know what Louis had planned for their date, but he was excited to find out. As he looked out of the window, a thin layer of frost still coating the bare branches of the trees surrounding their flat, he finished doing up the gold buttons of his coat, pulled on a soft navy beanie, and a pair of charcoal woolly gloves. With his jeans and boots, his face was the only part of him exposed to the elements. He grabbed his phone, keys and wallet, and walked out of the door, spring in his step.

Harry survived the tube, and hot and sweaty from being crushed by the mass of people in his carriage, he basked in the fresh air that hit him as he stepped out of the station and into the crisp winter morning. As he looked around, he couldn’t see Louis anywhere. He’d made good time, and was ten minutes early. He hopped from foot to foot, rubbing his gloved hands together to warm them back up, breath misting in front of him. Then, he heard what was fast becoming his favourite sound, bright and sparkly behind him. “Morning love! I hope you’re ready to be swept off your feet?”

Louis, looking perfect again, in black jeans, his black leather jacket, and a beanie similar to Harry’s own, was there then, up close, toe to toe with Harry, looking up at him with adoration in his eyes. He planted a quick kiss to Harry’s lips, and tangled their hands together, leading them off in the direction of more central London. “It’s not far, about five minutes, do you want me to grab you a coffee or anything for the walk?” Looking at him, touched by the gesture, Harry leant across and placed a kiss to the side of Louis’ head, into the woolly beanie, before laughing out a reply, “No, I’m good thanks. I’m just wondering where we’re going!”

They walked in comfortable silence, broken only by Harry commenting on and taking pity on a particularly pathetic looking pigeon, giving it some of a cereal bar he found in his pocket. And Louis, acting like a wide-eyed tourist, snapping quick photos here and there of landmarks as they passed by.

As they got closer, Harry stopped and turned to Louis, looking triumphant, “I’ve worked out where we’re going Lou!” Tapping Harry on the nose, and taking his hand again to walk on, Louis spoke through the smile playing on his lips, “You have, have you? Not just a pretty face eh? Well, you might be right, but this is only part one, just a quick-ish pit-stop before part two. If you’ve already guessed that, then I’ll have to think of some way to outsmart you next time.”

Harry hoped that he’d been quiet, that Louis hadn’t heard. He hadn’t been able to help it, breathing out an excited, little, _“Next time”_  into the busy street, bustling around them. He didn’t know if Louis had meant to say it, but the mere thought of him picturing a future, with them together, made Harry warm right down to his toes.

……

“St Paul’s Cathedral Lou? I wouldn’t have taken you for a history buff?” Harry asked, eyes sparkling, squeezing Louis’ hand tightly.

“Well love, you’ve got a lot to learn then. Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, eh?” Louis replied, not noticing the way Harry reacted again, to illusions of a future together.

They walked up the stone steps, through the pillar lined entry, and through the huge stone doorway, towering above them. It was quiet, too early for the bulk of the tourists. Taking in the ornate stone carvings over almost every surface, the black and white marble checkerboard flooring, and the ornate vaulted, painted ceilings, it was breath-taking. Harry, feeling like they were somewhere sacred, nudged Louis gently in the side to get his attention, “It’s beautiful. Can't believe I’ve lived in London all this time and I’ve never been here before.”

Louis, whispered back, smiling softly as he spoke, “I know, me neither. Like, I’m not a massive royalist or anything, but it’s kind of mind-blowing thinking of all of the people that have been christened here, and married here,” and pulling a bit of a face, “and buried here.”

Harry barked out a laugh, far too loud. He slapped his hand across his mouth, and looking shocked, spoke through his fingers, hand still clasped over his mouth, “Lou, that was your fault. Not the most romantic, thinking about all the bodies buried here is it?”

His shoulders shaking with the effort to stifle his own laughter, Louis took hold of Harry’s hand, whispered, “Sorry”, and led them to a stone staircase at the edge of the ground floor. “Brought us here for this really, thought it might be fun.” They walked up the stairs, Louis leading the way, to a narrow gallery, a balcony, running around the whole circumference of the building. It was edged with black wrought iron, just above waist-height. As they looked around, they saw that they were the only ones up there.

Louis, seeing realisation dawning, squeezed Harry’s hand again, and spoke quietly, “Shall we? It’s the Whispering Gallery, they reckon you can stand at one side and whisper, and someone on the other side will hear you clear as day. You have to whisper right into the wall though. Do you want to give it a go?”

Harry positively beamed at him and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss to his lips, “I’d love to Lou. What shall we say though?” Louis, prising their hands apart, placed one last, final kiss to Harry’s lips, before walking off towards the far side of the gallery, shrugging his shoulders and smiling widely as he went.

Harry was panicking as he watched Louis walk away. He was wracking his brains for something witty to say. But, his mind had gone blank, not an original thought to be found. Tempted to grab his phone, and Google 'romantic things to whisper’, he realised it was too late. Louis coughed to get his attention, and gave him a double thumbs-up to let him know that they were good to go.  

Harry needn’t have worried at all, before he could give it another thought, the distinctive sound of Louis’ voice came bouncing out of the wall, “Hi Harry”. Laughing and deciding to be just as original, Harry whispered back into the solid stone wall next to him, “Hi Lou”.

They looked across the expanse of the space between them, and laughed, noises echoing all around them.

Harry, still pulling himself back together, nearly missed it the first time, he had to look over at Louis, and mouth 'again' to get him to repeat himself. The second time he did catch it, and _wow,_ Louis was a romantic fool. And Harry loved it. There, clear as day, was Louis’ voice ringing out through the stone surface, “I  _like_ , like you.” Harry, blushing, and feeling very much like a character in a romantic comedy, stammered out his own, “I _like,_  like you too Lou,” before running off in Louis' direction, determined to show him just how much he meant it. 

....   

“Lou, I think we’re lost, we’ve been wandering around for ages. And I’m sure I’ve seen this bit of hedge about five times.”

They were at Hampton Court, in Hampton Court Maze to be precise. Louis had a plan, and getting lost was part of that plan. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He took Harry’s phone from him, closed down the Google Maps app he’d been looking at, and placed a tender kiss just underneath Harry’s ear, speaking softly as he pulled away, “Have a little faith Harry.”

He walked them on, through the narrow hedged corridors, taking rights and lefts, giving a good impression of trying to find their way out. It was mid-week, in the middle of the winter, and as the afternoon had drifted away, so had the other people they’d crossed paths with in the maze earlier.

They came to a dead end unexpectedly, to a space that opened out slightly, and housed a bronze sun-dial in the centre. On each of the three sides was a small alcove cut into the greenery, with a stone bench set inside. Louis sat on one of the benches and looked up to Harry, “Shall we take a little break?” and patting the space next to him, Harry sank down, looking grateful to be able to sit and rest for a while.

Louis took hold of Harry’s hand, and drawing lazy patterns on his palm, he saw Harry slump back, looking genuinely tired. 

“Harry, I’ve got a confession. We’re not lost. Well not accidentally anyway," Louis muttered. Seeing Harry’s confused expression, he carried on, “It’s stupid, don’t laugh, I looked up romantic date ideas in London, and it suggested getting intentionally lost in here. And it seemed like a fun idea at the time. But now. You’re tired. And I’m not sure where we are. And I don’t think it was a such a good idea anymore.” He looked down at their hands, and spoke quietly, the last part under his breath, “I’m sorry, I’ve ruined our date, haven’t I?”

Harry surprised him, pulling his hand away from where Louis was playing with it, and gently cupped Louis' face in his hands, brushing away the strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. He had a glint in his eye that Louis hadn’t seen before, and it took his breath away, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He ran a thumb, gently over each of Louis’ cheekbones as he spoke, “You haven’t ruined anything, that was really thoughtful of you. And seeing as we’re here, and ‘lost’, we may as well make the most of it, don’t you think?” Louis nodded, not capable of forming words, as he felt Harry’s hands move to cup the back of his neck, his fingers tangling in Louis' hair, pulling him forward.

Their mouths crashed together, and Harry growled into it, nibbling Louis’ lower lip, begging Louis to grant him access. He felt like a weight had been lifted, and moaned, opening his mouth, letting Harry lazily run his tongue over the back of his teeth. Before he got too swept away in Harry, Louis opened his eyes, and looked around as much as he could. Seeing the coast was clear, he decided to go for it. He tore himself away from Harry's lips and stood between his thighs, taking in the sight of Harry rumpled and breathing hard and fast. He dropped down on to Harry's lap and straddled him, locking their lips back together. He revelled in the moans and sighs he was drawing out of Harry from his position, spread out on top of him.

As Louis sucked what he knew would be bruises into Harry’s jaw, he couldn’t help himself, and rocked forward, letting out a soft sigh, feeling the hard outline of Harry’s cock through his jeans. Harry bucked up to match him, and the movement, the friction on Louis’ own sensitive cock, had him biting down on the soft skin of Harry’s shoulder to muffle the noises he knew were already getting too loud. One last thrust forward, and he pulled back, taking in Harry, looking wrecked in front of him, lips red, eyes glassy, and bruises blooming along his jawline.

Louis stood, shaking with the effort to compose himself, and took hold of Harry’s hand. He adjusted himself, kissed Harry one last time, and spoke, determined, and a little desperate. “Need to get you home, now.”

….

“Fuck, _Lou,_ fucking hell, that feels,” and Harry trailed off, mid-sentence, unable to focus on anything but the sight of Louis on his knees, and the wet, hot feel of Louis’ mouth all around him. Water cascading down on them, Louis looked up from his place on the shower floor. He looked focussed and in control, lips stretched around Harry’s cock, cheeks hollowed as he took him down, eyelashes clumped together, hand stroking softly at Harry’s balls.

“Lou, you’re mouth, it’s, _god,_ you feel so good, _you’re_ so good,” thudding his head back against the tiled wall and closing his eyes, Harry felt overwhelmed by the sensation of Louis taking him down.

Louis, sensing he was close, pulled off and gave Harry’s cock a couple of tight strokes before taking him right back down again, his nose pressing into the soft hair by Harry’s stomach, his throat opening to take him in as far as he would go. And that was what did it, the sensation of his cock bumping against the back of Louis’ throat sent Harry crashing over the edge. He cried out, a last minute, “Lou, fuck, Lou, fuck me, I’m close,” fruitlessly trying to grip onto the tiled wall as he came, body trembling and shaking, knees going weak.

Harry slid down to the floor, and moved Louis’ hand away from where he was frantically stroking himself, still on his knees. “Lou, stand for me please babe.” Once Louis was standing, Harry looked up at him. He swirled his tongue around the the head of Louis’ cock, and bobbed, sucking and playing with Louis’ balls, until he could feel, by the way Louis' stomach muscles were trembling, that he was struggling to stay in control. He could hear Louis gasping and sighing above him, sounding like he was close. He took hold of Louis’ hands, and placing them on the back of his own head, tangling them in his curls, encouraged Louis to thrust into him. He could tell Louis was unsure if he’d understood him completely, felt him still for a moment. Harry nodded, mouth full, giving Louis the go-ahead to thrust deep into his mouth, one, two, three times, before Louis was shaking and moaning loudly. He gritted out an “Oh god _Harry,_ ” before tensing completely and falling apart, coming long and hard, “Harry, Harry. Harry,” falling from his lips like a prayer.

……

Louis had made it back from Harry’s and was snuggled up in bed, watching TV, and struggling to keep his eyes open. Princess wasn’t helping much, her warm, rumbling presence only adding to the sense of calm and coziness.

Admitting defeat, he got to his feet and stripped off his clothes, apologising to Princess for disturbing her. Naked and back in bed, he turned off the TV, plunging the room into total darkness. Never having been a fan of that, he reached over to the curtains and opened them an inch or so, letting just a chink of light into the room.

He was drifting off, on the verge of sleep, when his phone buzzed, twice in quick succession. He found it eventually, underneath Princess, and it was worth her disgruntled response to see the messages.

_Hi Lou! Thank you for an amazing date. You don’t need any romance tips, you do a pretty stellar job yourself. Love H xx_

And then the other.

_Oooh, just realised, it’s my turn to plan the next date, isn’t it? How do you fancy being the Danny to my Sandy? The Baby to my Johnny? ;) xx_

Louis thumped his head back on the pillow, letting out a disbelieving laugh, as he reread the message, shaking his head as he spoke, “Oh my god, Princess. Is he for real?”

He rambled on, tapping the end of her nose, to get her attention, “Come on, come clean, you’re a witch’s cat aren’t you? And you magicked him up for me? It’s the only explanation.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Mate, you’re properly gone for him aren’t you?” Zayn kicked Louis’ bare foot, propped up on the coffee table, both of them lounged on the sofa in their living room, sharing a joint.

Louis let out a breathy laugh, dressed in loose blue jeans rolled up at the ankle, and a light blue tank top, his hair falling in his eyes, relaxed and stripped of the formalities of his work clothes. He flopped his head against the back of the sofa, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to pull his hazy thoughts together, through the smoke that hung heavily all around them. He supposed he was. And he wasn’t sure how it had happened, how Harry had managed, so effortlessly, to weave his way into Louis’ heart.

He knew that alarm bells should have been going off, that his subconscious should have been shouting, ‘stop, stop, stop’ by now. And maybe it was. But honestly, at this point, he thought, a whole chorus of self-doubting and cautious voices could be going off in his head, and he’d probably just tell them to sod off. Whatever self-protection measures normally kicked in, had decided to stall when it came to Harry. And on instinct, Louis knew that as long as he let himself go, let himself enjoy what they were becoming, that Harry wouldn’t hurt him, not intentionally in any case.   

Zayn nudged his foot again, and on a deep exhale, Louis turned his head lazily to make eye contact, feeling a small smile creeping across his features, “Is that a bad thing? Thought you were the one telling me to just go for it?”

Louis watched Zayn carefully, looking for any of his usual tells, any hint that he might be holding back as he replied, “Not at all. I’m just surprised is all. Thought you’d still have your guard up. It’s early days after all. But you just seem really chilled with him. It’s good, really good mate. Just unexpected I suppose, that’s all.”  

He knew what Zayn meant, but he didn't want to overthink it, didn’t want to think so far ahead that he scared himself off from taking the baby steps they were currently navigating with each other, He thought back to that late night Christmas Day conversation with his mum, where, exhausted from too much washing up, and loose from too much wine, he’d listened and soaked up her advice, where he’d promised her that he’d give it a proper go, that he wouldn’t wreck it before it had even got started. His mum was the wisest person he knew, and he wasn’t going to start ignoring her now.

He sat up straighter, tucked his feet underneath himself, and playing with his fringe, something he did when he was feeling a bit exposed, replied. “I know. But you’ve seen him, how he is, what he does. He’s one of the most open people I think I’ve ever met.

“He hasn’t done anything to make me think I can’t trust him. So for once, I’m going to trust, and risk having it broken, rather than force him to earn back something he’s never done anything to lose in the first place.

“Does that make sense? Think this weed’s getting to me, can’t think straight.”

Zayn pulled Louis into his side and rested his head on his shoulder, speaking quietly, “It does mate, it does. It’s good, really good.”

There, wrapped up in Zayn’s arms, Louis meant it, he wasn’t going to let a painful past wreck what was a happy current and, could be, a wonderful future. But it didn’t stop him from acknowledging, at least to himself anyway, that at some point he needed to be honest with Harry. It was only fair.

….

The day of Harry’s date had finally arrived, and he was woken up, far too early, by his phone buzzing and falling off the bedside table, clattering on to the hardwood floor. He felt around for it, bending his arm in an especially uncomfortable way, not wanting to get out of bed to retrieve it.

_Love, this date? Is it fancy dress or anything? Just wondering if I need to raid my dressing up box! L ;)_

Phone in hand, still in bed, still half asleep, Harry rubbed at his eyes, and blinked hard, trying to bring the fuzzy letters into focus. He held his phone at arm's length and snook his head, amused, as he pictured the contents of Louis’ imaginary, or otherwise, ‘dressing up box’. As he wondered whether to be kind and tell the truth, his phone buzzed again with another text.

_And tell the truth. Whatever you’ve got planned, I’ll love it, just don’t want to be the only muppet in normal clothes, or worse, my Sandy outfit going to waste on an undeserving crowd! L x_

In that moment, Harry wondered if Louis had untold psychic abilities, an undiscovered penchant for fancy dress, or if _he_ was just an extremely bad liar. They’d been texting and chatting about the date for the last few days, with Louis trying to wheedle out clues about exactly what he had planned. And Harry had thought he’d done a good job of not letting anything slip. But maybe not, maybe Louis was on to him.  

He sat up in bed, letting the duvet pool around him, and typed out a quick reply, knowing Louis would hate how vague he was being.

_Lou, would I lie to you? :) And, would say ‘optional’ as far as fancy dress goes._

And then another, sure to frustrate Louis even further, before he got up and headed to the shower.

_And no, before you ask, I’m not telling you any more! See you later H xx_

…..

“So Harry, how much have you told Louis exactly? Are you sure you’re ready for him to see you in all your sappy glory?” Niall laughed, dressed in running gear, and far too chipper for so early in the morning, as he wolfed down a bowl of cornflakes and downed a mug of tea.

Bugger. Harry hadn’t really thought about that. He’d just thought it would be fun and booked the tickets on a whim. Something had told him that it would be Louis’ kind of thing. But, seeds of doubt planted, he wondered if he should have gone for a safer option.

Harry ran his hands through his long hair, second-guessing himself. “Erm. Shit, I hadn’t really thought of that. I’ll definitely cry, won’t I? And I go all splotchy when I cry, don’t I? Shit. Do you think I should do something else? Like, take him out for a meal or something? Maybe it’s a bit much?”

Even as he spoke, he was fiddling with his phone, starting to look up local restaurants. At that, Niall walked over, grabbed Harry’s phone, and shoved it down his pants, to stop him from making a panicked call to book a reservation.

Before Harry had a chance to try and retrieve it, or decide what to do, Niall had pushed him down on to one of the chairs in the kitchen. He then proceeded to tease him remorselessly.

“Well, bit late isn’t it. You’ve already told him that it’s ok to turn up in fancy dress. Can’t have him turning up for a normal meal dressed at Sandra Dee or Baby can you?

“Anyway, I’m only messing with you, bet it’s right up his alley. If he’s anything like you, he’ll love it. Bad as each other you two, most likely.”

Seemingly in no hurry, Niall sat back down and finished his breakfast, ignoring the way Harry glared at him across the worn wooden table. Finally, after letting Harry stew for a bit, he rummaged around in his sweatpants for Harry’s phone, and threw it at him. He grabbed his trainers, and left the flat with a shout of “Just have fun, and take some bloody Kleenex with you, for the love of god,” over his shoulder, before the door slammed shut, leaving Harry on his own.

Harry looked at his phone suspiciously, and debated whether he needed to wipe it down or not. Deciding to risk it, he prodded at it, putting on the Grease soundtrack, and shimmied into his bedroom to get ready for the date, only a residual doubt that it might backfire on him spectacularly, lingering.

…..

Louis couldn’t believe it was happening again. It was getting embarrassing now.

The effect Harry had on him.

He was standing in the middle of Leicester Square, surrounded by thousands of tourists, the noise of black cabs, red buses, and London blaring all around him, but all he could see, all he could concentrate on was _Harry_. It was as if every cell in his body was drawn to him. He’d spotted him, even from a distance, and it was a struggle to stand still and wait. He had to fight against every instinct not run towards him, to close the gap as quickly as possible, and throw himself into Harry’s arms.

He wasn’t sure if it was the way Harry looked that took his breath away, made his hair stand on end, made the back of his neck prickle in anticipation. Or if it was the way Harry made him feel when he was near him that did it. Maybe it was both. Or maybe it was something else altogether, something less tangible. In any case, Harry was striding towards him, step by long step, closing the gap between them, and Louis had to restrain himself, shaking with the sheer effort of staying still.

Harry was just a few feet away, and he was waving at Louis in a slightly self-conscious way that Louis was fast becoming familiar with. He was smiling that smile, the small one, with a hint of nerves to it, that set Louis on fire, made him want to take Harry apart, and put him back together again. Made him want to take his hand and drag him across London and back into his bed, keep Harry all to himself. Instead, Louis just stood his ground, waved back, and smiled in a way that had exactly how he was feeling written all over it, loud and clear.

He watched Harry weave his way through the last remaining cluster of people that separated them, and then he was there, soft and gentle, strong and bright, honest and open.

Louis took a single step forward, and pulled Harry into his arms, standing on his tip-toes to hook his chin over Harry’s shoulder, wrap his arms around him, and sink into it. Into everything Harry did to him, everything Harry meant to him.

They held onto each other, Harry’s hands low on Louis’ back, Louis’ own wrapped around Harry’s neck, content to leave London to its own devices, churning on around them. It was a little girl, about six probably, crashing into them, excited and not looking where she was going, that finally broke them apart.

“Hi you,” two little words were the best Louis could manage, still overwhelmed by Harry, even more so now he could feel him, gentle in his arms, and see him up close in all his glory.

Harry smiled softly, holding both of Louis’ hands in his, and Louis thought Harry looked as overwhelmed as he felt. It had only been a week since they’d last seen each other, but it had felt like an age.

“Hi you, too,” Harry replied, squeezing both of Louis’ hands.

And then, “You look amazing Lou, really amazing.”

He felt himself growing warm under Harry’s praise, and deflected in the best and most honest way he knew how, “You too love, so beautiful. Pretty sure, wherever you’re taking me, we’ll put the rest of them to shame.”

Harry leant forward and placed a soft kiss to Louis’ lips, smiling into it, and brushing his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone, “I hope you like it, starting to second guess myself now, but there’s an interval, so we can always head off then, do something else maybe?”

And no, that was no good. Louis brushed the tip of his nose against Harry’s and clasped Harry’s hands tighter, looking straight into his deep green eyes as he replied. “I’ll love it, I don’t even need to know what you’ve got planned, it’s spending time with you that I love.

“At this point, we could go and watch paint dry somewhere, and I’d still think it was the best date ever. Ok?”

Harry beamed, dimples deepening, and planted one last kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose, before leading the way into the crowd, shouting cheekily, “Well, I hear the paint drying exhibition’s this way. It’s a good one, coloured paint and everything, you won’t be disappointed, promise!”

…

“Taa daa!” Harry twirled on the spot, high ponytail swinging, the pale pink satin ribbon he’d tied his hair up with, catching the light, the bow bouncing as he moved. He’d paired it with a matching satin bomber jacket, black skinny jeans, and sparkly boots, hoping he’d nailed the hybrid Pink Ladies, T-Birds look he’d been going for.

“The cinema?” and Louis grinned at him, pretty sure that it wouldn’t be quite as straightforward as that.

Harry spread his arms wide, and gestured to the crowd all around them, outside the innocuous, old-fashioned looking building. “Not just any old cinema Lou.”

And as they stood there, they might have been the most sophisticated looking in their nod to fancy dress, but they certainly weren’t the most ‘out there’. All around them people were in full costume, dozens of Sandra Dee’s with high ponytails, pastel-coloured sweaters, and circle skirts. One man, in his early twenties by the looks of it, had gone the whole hog, black leather jacket, collar up, with the T-birds logo hand-drawn on the back, all in black, down to his creeper shoes.

Louis smiled back at him, and gestured to himself, “Feel a bit underdressed, would’ve gone for it properly if I’d known!”

To Harry, Louis looked wonderful. His hair was teased into a high quiff, and he wore a pale pink v-neck t-shirt that fitted snuggly across his chest. Harry could see that Louis had sewn a heart-shaped patch onto the front of the t-shirt, small, on the left-hand side, and it looked like he’d stitched ‘Baby’ on to the patch in long, loopy stitches. And Harry wasn’t sure, but he felt like he needed to find out, if the sinfully tight black jeans Louis was wearing, were in fact jeans at all, or leggings. All Harry knew for sure was that the way the fabric clung to the firm curves of Louis’ thighs, calves, and glorious arse, was nothing short of stunning.

He tore his eyes away, took Louis’ hand, and planted a soft kiss to his cheek, whispering, hot breath ghosting, “You look perfect to me, and so sexy Lou.”

Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Louis pulled them in the direction of the queue that was building, “Maybe we can get the back row, and you know what that means, eh?

….

“Oh god, Harry,” Louis nuzzled into Harry’s side a he spoke, resting his head on his shoulder, feeling loose and relaxed from the glass of wine he’d had in the basement bar. “You’re an actual child aren’t you?” He felt Harry shrug, and laugh, before they both went back to singing along.

They were in the back row, but instead of snogging in the way back rows were made for, they sang along to song after song, soaking up the joyous atmosphere generated by the hundreds of people all around them. They belted out each word, doing their best ‘innocent Sandy’ impressions, and swag-filled Danny Zuko drawls. When it came to _Summer Lovin’_ they stood in their seats and, delighting each other, danced, both knowing the moves to the last gesture, the last sway of hips. Laughing, and sharing giddy looks, Louis wondered how he’d managed to stumble across someone that was such a good match for him, in even the most silly, innocent of ways.

As the end credits rolled, and the lights came up, Louis caught sight of Harry’s fingernails for the first time. They were painted a gorgeous sparkly pastel pink. He took hold of Harry’s hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn, feeling so much affection towards him.

“They’re beautiful love,” was all he said, hoping he wouldn’t make Harry feel self-conscious.

Holding his gaze, he could see Harry blushing under the harsh lighting, but he didn’t look uncomfortable, he looked _happy_ , Louis couldn’t think of a better word for it. Happiness was just radiating off of him, “Thanks Lou, I’m glad you like it. It’s just something I do sometimes. Had to get Niall to do my right hand. I’ve been training him up. They do look pretty, don’t they?”

Louis hadn’t realised until then, that it was possible to be blinded by the sheer beauty of another person. Harry just looked so alive and full of joy that Louis didn’t really know what to do in the face of it, or with the fact that he’d, at least in part, contributed to it. He just nodded, and kissed the back of Harry’s hand, trying to convey the emotions he couldn’t put into words, “They do love, they really do.”

….

“Baby, would you like a milkshake? We can share one maybe?” Harry giggled, planting a soft kiss to Louis’ cheek, enjoying the shocked expression on his face, and the faint blush that creeped its way up Louis’ cheekbones.

He’d been dying to do it all afternoon, all the way through the second movie. The 'Baby' patch on Louis’ t-shirt tempting him each time he caught sight of it. But the loud, boisterous atmosphere of the cinema hadn’t felt like the right time. Sitting in the the booth at the diner they’d found, holding hands, feet tangled together, that did feel like the right time.

Louis took a while to answer, and Harry wondered if he’d done something wrong. Finally, Louis poked at the side of his cheek, eyebrow quirked, best sassy tone to his voice, goading Harry, wringing a huge smile out of him, finger sinking into his dimpled as it deepened. “Baby eh? I guess I could be your Baby, love.” With a glint in his eye, he carried on, “Might have to test out your upper body strength though. Can’t very well be your Baby, without their signature move, can I?”

Harry could feel himself going red, and couldn’t quite get his brain to focus on a witty comeback.

Illusions of Louis being _his_ anything caused his treacherous brain to lurch to visions of a future together. And Louis talking about upper body strength had heat coiling low in his belly. It was a combination that left him dazed, and struggling to string a sentence together.

In the end, aware he was still blushing, and that Louis was probably wondering why, he took hold of Louis’ hand, and reigned back in the premature thoughts of a future, settling for something he hoped would hit the right balance. “Maybe we can test it out later? Reckon I’d be a pretty good Johnny to your Baby. And you can trust me, I won’t let you fall.

Little did Harry know, as he watched Louis nodding back at him, that even those reigned in words - of trust, of not letting him fall - had just as much of an impact on Louis, as words alluding to a future together had on him.

……

“Fuck off, I can cook perfectly well, thank you very much Zayn!” Louis was rummaging through his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. And Harry was due in an hour.

From his place, lying on Louis’ freshly-made bed, Zayn just laughed and carried on, “Really, so what are you making then? I don’t smell anything burning.”

Louis was distracted, buried in his wardrobe, occasionally holding an item up to himself, looking in the mirror, and putting it back, wanting to look his best. Inviting Harry for dinner at his felt like a big deal. An cough from Zayn had Louis spinning around, and, seeing Zayn looking smug, he threw a pair of socks at him to try and get him to shut up. “Because _Zayn_ , it’s all in the prep, ok?”  

Zayn crumpled into a heap on the bed, shoulders shaking, laughter filling the room. And that was it. Louis threw a pair of dirty socks at him this time, and hauled him up and off of the bed, across the room, and out of the door, shouting, “Fuck off Zayn!! I meant prepping the food. Not _that_ kind of prep. Your mind's like a bloody sewer sometimes, I swear to god,” before slamming the door it shut in his face.

……..

Harry walked up the stairs to Louis’ flat, bouquet of sunflowers in one hand, bottle of red wine in the other, little catnip mouse tucked in his back pocket, just because.

He should have felt nervous. He knew, if past relationships were anything to go by, this sort of date, romantic, domestic, intimate, was loaded with possibilities. Possibilities of getting carried away and moving too fast. This was normally the point, with previous partners, where he’d end up getting too comfortable, and lulled into a false sense of security, would push, ask if they were boyfriends, or ask if they could be. And that was where things had tended to come to an abrupt halt. But this time, despite what he’d said to Nick, he didn’t feel the same kind of urgency, didn’t feel the desperate need to rush to solidify things. He felt happy, and as far as he could tell, Louis felt the same, so sucking in a deep breath he took the final steps to Louis’ front door and knocked, content to just _be_ for once, to let things evolve at their own pace.

Instead of Louis, Harry was greeted by a much smaller person. A little girl, probably about five years old, with big blue eyes and light brown wavy hair, opened the door, Princess in her arms. “Are you Harry?” she asked, voice bold. Caught off guard, before Harry had a chance to answer, she carried on, “Louis said not to let anyone in unless it was Harry, and to tell anyone else to go away.”

Harry crouched down, and put the flowers and wine on the floor next to him. Big smile on his face, he scratched Princess between the ears, and answered, “Well, good job I _am_ Harry then, and it’s lovely to meet you.”

She looked and him and nodded purposefully before striding off, shouting as she went, “Louis, he says he is a Harry, shall I let him in, or tell him to go away?”

Harry had to hold back a burst of laughter, not wanting to get on the wrong side of this mystery small person. As he stood, he could see her standing in the corridor, back to him, and he could hear Louis, voice light and airy, replying to her, “Well lovely, that depends, is he just any old Harry, or does he look like _my_ Harry?

She looked back at Harry over her shoulder, giving him another curious once over, before turning back, nodding, and giggling a reply, “He looks like your Harry.”

With that, Louis rounded the corner, and walked towards him, his tiny personal bouncer at his side, Princess still in her arms. “We better let him in then sweetheart.” As he beckoned Harry in he said, “Harry this is Millie. Millie, this _is_ my Harry, well done for checking for me.”

Looking pleased with herself, she scampered off towards the living room, and let them alone, Harry still in the doorway. He didn’t think Louis was doing it on purpose, but he was fast losing track of the number of times the odd word Louis would drop in here and there would get to him. And the latest, _‘my Harry’,_ was probably the worst of them all, making him feel loved, and almost looked after, if it was possible for just one word to achieve all of that.

Louis took hold of his hand and squeezed it, nodding down at the flowers and wine still on the doorstep, and winked at him, “You coming in then love? Seeing as you’re allowed now.”

Harry shook himself out of the thought he’d been in the middle of, crouched down, picked up the wine and flowers, and followed Louis inside, closing the door behind him, just a tad confused about the extra person joining them for dinner.

By the time he’d taken off his coat and boots, Louis had disappeared into the living room. Harry followed the chattering voices, and found them, sat on the floor, cross-legged, sheets of paper and crayons strewn around them.

“Come and join us, we’re just finishing these up, aren’t we Millie, think you’re mum will be back soon won’t she?” Louis patted the spot of carpet next to him, beckoning Harry down.

Harry started drawing a cat, aiming for a portrait of Noodle when a little hand poked at the piece of paper, “Harry, is that Princess Noodle? It looks like her, she’s orange, and you’re using an orange pen. You need to draw her bow too, here,” and, amused, Harry had a black pen shoved into his hand.

“Princess Noodle? She’s got a lot of names, hasn’t she Millie?” Smiling as he spoke, Harry took hold of the pen, “And a bow, what bow sweetheart?”

“This bow Harry,” Millie stood to stroke Princess where she was sleeping on the sofa, causing her to tip her head back in delight, showing off the little black satin bow-tie nestled in her long fur.

Harry felt himself blushing, and Louis chipped in then, placing his hand on Harry’s thigh. “She doesn’t wear it all the time, only for special occasions, we thought you’d like to see her in it, seeing as you got it for her.” He leant across and placed a soft kiss to Harry’s lips, brushing his hand down the side of his face, leaving it to rest on Harry’s shoulder.

He was trying to think of something to say, something that didn’t give away the extent that seeing Princess wearing the present he’d got for her had affected him. He was just touched that Louis had liked it, and had thought to put it on her, that was all. Struggling, he was saved by the bell, literally, as the doorbell buzzed, sending Millie and Louis racing off to see who was there.

…..

“Lou, this is amazing, thank you,” Harry threaded their fingers together as he spoke, pressing a kiss to the back of Louis’ hand. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. He had a lot to learn about Louis, and he was looking forward to finding out every single quirk, trait and facet of him he was yet to discover.

“No, _thank you._  I mean, it’s not exactly romantic is it? A stew.” Louis replied, “But I knew I was going to be looking after Millie for a bit. Needed something I could just get started and then leave. I’ll do something a bit posher next time, promise.”

Harry took a slip of his wine, and tangled his foot around Louis’ ankle under the table before he spoke, “It’s delicious. And you’re lovely. Helping your neighbour out like that. Not everyone would, you know. I think I only know one other person in my building, everyone just keeps themselves to themselves.”

He could see Louis struggling under his praise, the candlelight casting the most beautiful shadows, highlighting his outrageous eyelashes, cheekbones, and the dips of his collarbone.

“And, in any case, who decides what’s romantic anyway? Can only speak for myself, but seeing you with Millie, playing with her, how much you clearly care for her, and how much she adores you, that tells me way more about you as a person, and gets to me in a way that a fancy meal never could. You’re lovely. And I just feel really lucky that I get to spend time with you.”

“Harry, I...I” Louis struggled, blushing, and Harry wanted to kiss a little faith into him. He needed to show him that tonight was enough, more than enough, that they could create their own version of ‘romance’, and if babysitting and stew for dinner was it, then so be it. So he did.

“Lou, come here,” he pushed his chair back and opened his arms, “ _please?_ ”

Louis was on his lap, and in his arms, looking straight at him with a softness that he hadn’t seen before. Harry closed the gap between them and placed a soft kiss to his lips, feeling Louis relax into it. He ran his hands up and under Louis’ top, taking in the heat of him, the softness of his skin, enjoying the weight of Louis on top of him. He nibbled his way up Louis’ neck, dotting the most gentle kisses he could manage all the way up, sucking as he reached the skin at the junction between Louis’ neck and jaw, drawing shuddering breaths out of him.

They broke apart, Louis looking both turned on and amused. Smiling, he took a deep breath, and leant back into Harry’s neck, hiding his face as he spoke, “I’ve got a confession to make, don’t laugh.”

As Harry placed a kiss to the top of Louis head, he whispered, “Of course I won’t, tell me what it is Lou?”

And he could feel Louis smiling, burying himself deeper into Harry’s shoulder, “It’s so silly. But here goes.

“That pie you got me. When I was ill. It made me cry.

“It made me properly sob. Like who gets emotional over a pie?

“Just thought, seeing as you find stew romantic, you might be ok with crying over a pie too? I know it’s weird.”

Harry kissed the top of Louis’ head again, and started to laugh quietly into his hair, “What’s that saying Lou, the Dr Seuss one?

“You must know it. The one about ‘mutually satisfying weirdness’ I think that’s us.”

As they sat there, wrapped up together, laughing over their own brand of romance, they both knew it, and even if it was too early to really mean it fully, the sentiment stood all the same.

…..

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the quote Harry’s referring to: 
> 
> "We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find  
> someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and  
> fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."  
> Dr. Seuss


	11. Chapter 11

Louis hated January. The excitement of Christmas and his birthday long gone. The knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to get away to see his family for months. The dark mornings, and the even darker evenings. It was just depressing.

Add to that, the fact that Zayn had come home, and looking more guilty than he needed to, had given Louis his portfolio back with a shrug and a “sorry mate”, before disappearing off. Likely not able to handle the disappointment written all over Louis’ face.

And Harry. Harry was still a welcome bright spot in Louis’ otherwise dull days. But even that didn’t feel quite so easy. Once work had ramped back up after the new year, they were both ridiculously busy, so busy in fact, that they hadn’t been able to squeeze in more than the odd text here and there for a week. Harry busy with a new client, which seemed to take up all of his time. And even Selfridges, the buzz of jam-packed days, which Louis normally thrived on, even that didn’t hold its usual charm. He wasn’t sure if it was just _January,_ or if it was something more permanent, but he felt fed up, and ground down, no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

He sat at his desk, and flicked through the portfolio, wondering why he’d been so stupid, to think it was good enough to share. Why he’d allowed Zayn to take it at all. There were definitely elements of it that he was proud of, in fact a lot of things he was proud of. But as a whole, it was disjointed and amateurish. He felt embarrassed that he’d put himself out there, too soon, before he was really ready. He read the note again, the one Zayn’s boss had been kind enough to write and slip inside the front cover of the portfolio.

_Louis,_

_Thank you for sharing this with me. You are certainly talented, and some of these pieces are stunning. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I think you need to give yourself more time. Take a step back and think about whether you want to do this full time. I know that you know this already, but to make it as a designer, it has to be your whole life. And that’s not for everyone (I should know, I’ve been there myself!) But if it is what you decide you want, I’d love to see your work again. Just take care, and take your time._

_Regards,_ _Oliver_

Louis sighed, and closed the portfolio, pushing it away from him, to the furthest corner of his desk. He knew Zayn’s boss had meant well. But it wasn’t that easy. He’d tried to make it his whole life, for the first agonising months in London, and that had been a slow-burning disaster. He couldn’t afford to just walk away from his job and go for it on his own, he’d be a fool to even try. He could feel himself slipping, to that place his mind always dragged him back to when he was feeling particularly down. Back to that awful day, when his whole life had fallen apart. The day when the foundations he’d thought were so strong, crumbled in the time it took him to open their front door, walk to their bedroom, and find out that the person he thought was the love of his life could destroy him so easily. With just a glance in his direction, eyes devoid of emotion, not a trace of guilt, that person, his whole world, had torn him to shreds, had crushed him completely, before going back to fucking the stranger in their bed.

Work, and frustrated dreams, he could park, and deal with another day. But this, the pain and scars he’d been tending to and getting over, Louis knew he was on a slippery slope, and if he didn’t do something about it, he’d hurt the person he cared about most of all. _Harry_.

As he pushed his chair back and stood, he picked up his phone and called the one person he always trusted, always listened to. “Hi mum, you ok? Just wondered if you had time for a chat. I just need to talk to you.”

….

Harry balanced his phone under his chin, and rummaged through the ever-growing pile of papers on his desk, listening to Nick, while trying to take notes, and find the files he was referring to at the same time.

“Ok, right, ok, I think I’ve found it. Do you want me to copy it and send it to you?” Harry made a note, as he listened to Nick’s reply, to scan some of the pages and email them to him.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine here. No, no, you don’t need to come back. It’s fine, I’ve got it all under control.” Harry shook his head, and hoped that he sounded calm enough to convince Nick not to abandon his trip to Liverpool. He didn’t want to be the cause of them losing a potential new client, and a big one, if what Nick had told him was true.

He could hear background noise building on Nick’s end of the line, and could tell he was getting distracted. Harry spoke a bit louder, and with more urgency, wanting to wrap the call up, so that Nick could concentrate on the meeting, and he could get back to work. “Nick, do you need me to do anything else?...Ok, well if you think of anything, just text me, or drop me an email…Yes, honestly, it’s all under control...Ok, speak to you later, good luck.”

As he hung up, he slumped forward in his chair, and rested his head in his hands, taking a couple of deep, calming breaths. He was exhausted. Nick had been out of the office all week, and Harry had been looking after all of the calls and admin that came with running a business, along with his own workload. That included meeting with his client, and trying to get their case in order.

And in all honesty, he was feeling out of his depth. He’d known it was going to be a challenge, and a step up, representing his own client. What he hadn’t realised was just how personally responsible he would feel on behalf of them. The pressure that it would bring with it. And that, for a few days at least, he’d been on his own, learning the hard way, just trying to get through each day without screwing up too badly.

It was Thursday, day four of running the show, and each morning he’d got up at 6am while it was still dark, had traipsed across London, even the tube quiet that early, getting to the office for 8am. Each day had passed by in a flurry of calls, meetings, more calls, actions from Nick, and more calls, before he managed to get away. Getting away involved, cramming himself onto the evening tube, packed no matter how late, before getting home and collapsing in a heap, still fully dressed, asleep by 10pm.

On top of it all, he missed Louis. They hadn’t seen each other for a whole week, Harry in the office all hours, and up to his eyeballs. They’d texted each other, just quick ones, checking in, wanting to make sure everything was ok. And they’d tried to arrange lunch, or a date, but it just hadn’t happened. He knew they were both adults with busy lives, but it didn’t stop him from missing Louis. Their dates felt like distant memories, and even though it was early days, he was needy, wanted to spend any free time he did have with him. He didn’t even care what they did, grabbed a coffee, or collapsed in bed together, tangled up in their exhaustion. He just felt like everything would be better, easier, if he had Louis by his side.  

He knew he was being selfish, and blowing things out of proportion. But he just hadn’t expect it to be this difficult already, this early on.

It wasn’t his best week.

….

Louis was running late.

He was on his way to meet Harry. They’d finally managed to find a time they were both free. Even if it was after work, and he was feeling shattered and worn down, Louis was determined to get there and make the most of it. It had been too long. He felt like everything might feel a little more hopeful, a little lighter, once he got to spend some time with Harry. The tube however, had other ideas.

They’d been stuck at a red signal for ten minutes, and squashed between other, equally harassed looking people, sighing, tutting, and generally getting more and more frustrated, Louis had finally had enough. “Excuse me, excuse me, coming through,” he pushed his way through the people blocking his way, and got off three stops early, deciding that walking would be quicker, and he'd at least feel like he was getting somewhere.

As he walked, he sent Harry a quick text, explaining he was running late, and letting him know he was on his way. The reply came through straight away, Harry, lovely as usual.

_Poor you :( no worries, I’ve got us a table. Take your time. Xx_

He walked as quickly as he could, weaving his way through the people that seemed dead set on getting in his way. Finally, turning rights, and lefts, he left the busy streets behind for a more quiet back road. He slowed down slightly, trying to calm down, and shake off the bad mood the journey had left hanging over him. It was a chilly evening, but he felt like he was wilting, too hot from rushing. As he unbuttoned his coat, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirrored window of a nearby building, and he looked awful. Cheeks flushed, fringe sticking to his forehead, clothes that had looked smart when he’d left work, now crumpled, and he could feel his black shirt sticking to his back. If it had been anyone else, he would have turned right around and gone straight home. He was not in the mood.

He could see Harry as he walked towards the bar, he was sat by the window, on his phone. He hadn’t noticed Louis, and even from a distance, Louis could see that he was concentrating, that he looked stressed. He still looked beautiful though, and Louis couldn’t wait to see him, make him smile, and kiss the stress away.

Louis took off his coat as he walked into the bar, dark and hot from how busy it already was. Hanging it on the back of the chair opposite Harry, he sat down, and took Harry’s free hand, tangling their fingers together as he waited for him to finish his call.

Harry sounded as stressed as he’d looked, deep frown furrowing his brow, biting his nails as he listened to the instructions he was being given, “No that’s fine Nick, don’t worry...Yeah, I know, I can get in early tomorrow….yep, I’ll send it to you first thing….no of course I won’t forget...I know...ok, speak to you later, bye.”

As he hung up, he leant forward, and pressed a tender kiss to the palm of Louis’ hand. Sounding tired, and a little guilty, he spoke, “Lou, I’m sorry, I thought I’d be done before you got here. I’m all yours now though.” Not sounding entirely convincing, he placed another kiss to Louis’ hand before letting it go and picking up the menus, passing one to Louis.

…..

“I missed you Lou,” Harry leant across the small table and placed a soft kiss to Louis’ lips, lingering, before cupping the back of his neck, and stroking at the soft hair there, which Louis knew was probably still damp with sweat.

“Me too love, being an adult’s rubbish sometimes isn’t it?” Louis smiled as he spoke, still feeling on edge and annoyed from his day and journey, but trying to let it go.

“Tell me about it, Nick’s back next week, thank god, don’t think I can keep this up much longer.” And Louis could see the toll the last week had taken on Harry, the frown seeming to have taken up permanent residence, and the usual sparkle in Harry’s beautiful eyes more subdued than normal.

“And I’m trying to get my head around my case too, which, Nick said it was a straightforward one, and I suppose it is, but still, with everything, I’m doing stupidly long days. And I’m just knackered.”

They placed their orders, and fell into a fairly comfortable silence, both tired, neither with much energy to spare. After a sip of his wine, Louis decided to share how his own week had been, even if Harry hadn’t actually asked him.

“My week’s been crazy too. We’re short staffed, so it’s even more busy than usual. And it’s the usual January thing of people having Christmas money, so loads of personal appointments too. So yeah, pretty full on for me too.”

He looked up at the lack of response to see Harry fiddling with his phone. With a deep sigh he carried on.

“And, you know Zayn’s boss asked to look at my portfolio? Well he did, and he didn’t think it was up to much. Said I needed to take some time and decide if it was what I really wanted to do. That’s it’s not really something I can do part-time. And I agree, but I can’t exactly jack my job in can I?”

Louis could feel himself getting annoyed, Harry was still looking at his phone, nodding at what he probably thought were appropriate moments, but not paying attention really. It was childish, but Louis was in a bad mood, and wasn’t happy with being ignored, especially after not seeing each other for so long. So he decided to see if Harry really was listening.

“So, yeah, I’m feeling pretty shit all things considered, not really sure what to do in all honesty,” and after a pause, “And it doesn’t help that you’re not even listening to me at _all_.”

Still no response, Louis decided that he’d had enough. He knew he might regret it later, but in the moment, it felt like a completely appropriate reaction. He threw his napkin on to the table, and pushed his chair back, with a scrape, to stand, and grabbing his coat, he put his hand over Harry’s, which was still clutching his phone. He finally had his attention. And seeing Harry’s confused look. he ploughed on, the very fact that he didn't even realise why Louis was annoyed, cementing things.

“Look, I know that clothes and stupid dreams aren’t as important as what you do. I get that, really I do. But it’s important to me. You could at least _pretend_ to listen.”

Harry just gaping at him, Louis put his coat on, and rummaged in his wallet, pulling out a few notes and setting them on his side of the table.

“I’m just going to go before I say something I regret. I know you’re tired, and I am too. So yeah, I’ll see you later.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the bar, not looking back, too angry, and not wanting to see the mess he’d left behind.

….

“Lou Lou, are you ok?” Sophia knew how to pick her moment, she really did.

It was late in the afternoon, and Louis was exhausted from a restless night’s sleep, not helped by his phone buzzing away until past midnight. Even hours later, he couldn’t decide whether he’d over-reacted, or if he’d been entitled. He thought it was probably somewhere in the middle truth be told.

Remembering back to how open Sophia had been with him about Liam, he decided that he owed her honesty at least. He slumped back against the counter, and mustered up the energy to fill her in of what had happened. “Not really Soph. Had a bit of a fight with Harry last night.”

With Sophia just giving him a sympathetic look, he carried on, “Not sure if it counts as a fight really. He was ignoring me, was on the phone, while I was telling him about my week. And I just got pissed off and left.” Saying it out loud, did make it sound a bit like an over-reaction, but he wanted her to know the full story.

“We hadn’t seen each other for ages. And we were both stressed and tired. Like, I get that. But, I don’t know, I’d just really missed him. It just didn’t seem like he was bothered, was more interested in his phone than me. Maybe it was a bit over the top. But it’s done now isn’t it?”

Sophia took hold of him and pulled him into a tight hug. Stroking the back of his head, she replied, “Lou, you’re entitled to feel how you feel. And I’m your friend, so I’m always going to take your side. But you really like him, don’t you?” Louis nodded in her arms, and she spoke again, “Well everyone messes up, I’m sure you have before. And I’m not saying that you should make the first move. But maybe look at his texts and see what he’s got to say. Will you do that Lou Lou?” Louis just nodded again, feeling his phone buzz in his jeans.

……

_Hi Lou, I am so sorry about last night. I’ll be on your side of Hyde Park from six, if you’ll come and meet me. H x_

Louis had taken Sophia’s advice, which was how he found himself taking the short walk to Hyde Park after work. He’d thought about just not going, a mixture of pride and stubbornness trying to cloud his judgement. But ultimately, the fact that he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling he’d over-reacted, and his belief that everyone - especially Harry - deserved a second chance, had him arriving at the outskirts of the park at just gone six. And even in the darkness, he could see Harry’s silhouette, lit by the soft street lights dotted around.

He pulled his coat more tightly around him as he got closer, partly for warmth, partly in a subconscious defensive movement. As the gravel crunched under his feet, Harry turned and saw him. And even with the argument hanging between them, Louis could feel his traitorous mouth turning up in a giveaway smile, which Harry returned with his own timid one.

He reached the bench Harry was sitting on, and, deciding to put the drama from last night to one side, sat down, and turned to face him.

“I’m so sorry Lou.”

“I’m sorry love.”

They laughed quietly, Harry beating Louis’ apology by a split second.

Louis made eye contact with Harry and looked down at the bench. When he could see that Harry was looking down too, he walked his fingertips along the expanse of bench between them, the same way he had on their very first date. He could see Harry’s small smile grow marginally, as he took the final move to take Harry’s hand in his and link their fingers together.

Louis squeezed his hand, and turning to face him fully, spoke, hoping it would be the start of an honest, and in the end, positive conversation, “I’m still mad at you. But I am sorry.”

It seemed like Harry wasn’t quite sure where his boundaries were, instead of kissing Louis’ hand, or making any other move, he just held on to it, a little more tightly and replied, sounding relieved, but still full of remorse. “I don’t think you need to be sorry about anything Lou. It was me that was the idiot. And I am _so_ sorry. Really I am. What you do _is_ important. It’s important to me. And I know it’s important to you. I had no right to make you feel like it didn't matter.”

Louis took the opportunity to move closer, shuffling up to Harry’s side, hands still clasped together. He needed to talk. He needed to tell Harry about what it would be like to date him, to give him the chance to walk away if it sounded like too much. He knew he needed to be truly honest. He just didn’t know if he could look at him while he was doing it.

“I knew we’d need to have this conversation. I’d just hoped it wouldn’t be quite so soon, didn’t want to scare you off. So here goes. And this is me laying my cards on the table here. So if you feel you need to walk away at the end of it. I’ll understand. Just hear me out.” Harry squeezed his hand, but otherwise, stayed silent.

“This doesn’t excuse my behaviour at all, and I over-reacted last night. But anyway. So yeah, I really like you, really. I’m stupidly gone for you. You’re the first person I’ve got close to for ages, for more than a year. The first person I’ve done _anything_ with for ages.

“At Uni, I was a right one, dating all about the place, hooking up, you know the usual stuff. Just having fun, for the first time really, away from home.

“In my final year I met Matt. We hit it off straight away. And he was special at the time. I stopped hooking up, and we got serious. We finished Uni at the same time, and we moved to London together. Got a place together. I felt like he was it for me.”

It was hard for Louis to talk about. It was the first time he’d spoken to anyone about it, other than Zayn and his mum. But it was important for Harry to hear it all, so Louis took a deep breath, and carried on.

“It was great really. We even talked about having kids, adopting. And I didn’t see it coming at all, which was probably why it hurt so much. One night, I was texting him on my way home, and he wasn’t answering. Didn't think anything of it really, When I did get home, and walked into our bedroom, I found him with another man. In another man.

“And that was it. It was all over. I screamed and cried, and he didn’t put up any sort of fight, just packed his bags and left. Never saw him again.”

He paused, and Harry pulled him closer, strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, “Lou, I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.” Harry went to carry on, but Louis just placed the tiniest of kisses to his cheekbone, and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him before speaking again.

“Love, you don’t need to be sorry for me. It’s just, if we’re going to do this, properly, you just need to understand. He hurt me, more than I knew another person could. I had to go home to mum’s for a couple of weeks, I couldn’t handle being in our flat on my own. And I tried to date, once, after him, but I was always second-guessing, always worrying what if it was going to happen again.

“It’s taken me this long to really start to get over it. And I wasn’t even looking at all when I met you. But I really like you, so yeah, this is me saying that I’m trying, that I’m giving it a go.

"But Harry, I don’t think you ever would, but I thought that before. Please, I know we’re not even officially anything yet, so I’m asking a lot. But if you find someone else, please just tell me, or break it off with me. I don’t want to hold you back. But I can’t go through that again.

“So yeah, that’s me, broken bits and all. Please, just be honest with me. Even about the bad stuff. That’s all I ask. Ok?

“Wow, that was a lot of talking. Sorry.” Finally finished, Louis blushed under Harry’s intense gaze, reassured though by the tight grip he still had on his hand.

Harry drew him closer, and maneuvered Louis so that his head was resting on his shoulder, Harry's arms wrapped around him, safe and secure.

“Honest Lou?

“Honestly, I’m terrified, that if I’m honest with you, you’ll run for the hills.”

Louis just snuggled into Harry, deeper still, encouraging him, by his sheer presence, to open up to him.

“Ok, well, if you think you’re stupidly gone for _me_ , I don’t even know what I am for you. And I promise you, I’ll never hurt you, not intentionally. And I am so sorry I didn’t listen to you yesterday, I always want to hear what you’ve got to say.

“So I guess I should start from the beginning. I think I’ve wanted to settle down, since I was about eighteen. While everyone else was off doing their thing at Uni, I was doing my thing too, but the whole time, I was secretly hoping I’d stumble across _the one_. Like how stupid is that? At Uni? Thinking a hook-up would turn into something special? But anyway, that’s what I did, and I was always, always, disappointed.

“They’d always leave in the morning. Or we’d go on a couple of dates and things would just fizzle out. So I kind of wrote Uni off as far as finding love went. And then Niall and I went travelling, which was amazing. But when we got back, and moved here. I was waiting. Just waiting for it to happen.

“I even signed up to a dating thing. But that was horrendous, basically just another way for people to find no strings hook-ups. Which, that’s fine, no judgement at all, but it’s just not what I’m after. So, when I met you, I was looking, but I’d kind of given up looking, if that makes sense? Just thought I was the one weird twenty-something actually wanting to settle down.

“So, yeah, me being honest, is me saying that I really, really like you. And in the end, I want it all, house, kids, cats, dogs, little garden, the whole nine yards. Which I know is terrifying for a lot of people. And I know we're only just getting going.

“So yeah. Scary I know. Run while you've got the chance, right?”

Louis didn’t run.

Instead he got to his feet, and stood in front of Harry, bracketed between his thighs, and leant forward, placing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. He placed his fingertips under Harry’s jaw, tilted his head back to meet his gaze, and smiled, a big bright grin taking over his whole face, before sinking down to sit in his lap.

He peppered kisses all over Harry’s face, from the tip of his nose, to the shell of his ear, to his jaw, his temple, to that place where the furrow in his brow had previously taken root. He kissed every inch of him, before settling on his lips. He pressed their lips together softly, any urgency stifled by the smile he just couldn’t contain. Louis, almost blinded by the sheer adoration in the look Harry was giving him, placed one last kiss to the tip of his nose, and pulled away, stood again, and taking Harry’s hands in his own, pulled him up to join him.

“How do you fancy me staying at yours tonight love?” he asked, not doubting the answer for a second.

Harry just pulled him into a fully body hug, and whispered, “I would love that Lou,” into his hair.

Their hands linked together, walking out of the park, and into the cold London night, that now seemed so full of hope and possibilities, Louis couldn’t resist it, just wanted to check one more time. Squeezing Harry’s hand, he asked, “You sure you’re ok with my baggage then, really?”

Harry stopped dead, and pulled Louis into his arms again, “Put it this way Lou, I’ll carry yours, if you carry mine.

"Deal?”

Laughing and linking their little fingers together, Louis grinned so hard, his beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners, “Deal.”

…..


	12. Chapter 12

It was still dark, only the merest hint of the new day peaking through the curtains. With Louis’ arms wrapped tightly around him, Harry’s thoughts drifted back to the night before. Honesty was a funny thing. On the one hand, it was liberating, freeing, laying yourself bare. And the fact that Louis had been so honest with him, Harry felt privileged, trusted. On the other hand, it was terrifying, giving Louis access to everything that made him tick, insecure bits and all. It made him feel vulnerable. He felt like he’d given Louis the key to the parts of himself he had always kept safely locked away.

As he lay there, conscious of Louis stirring behind him, Harry wondered what it would feel like once they were both awake. If it would feel different. The last couple of days had been a rollercoaster of emotions. Exhaustion, worry, anxiety, hope, wonder, and something, in the end,  that had felt a lot like love. And that was just on his part, add how Louis must have been feeling to it, and it was a lot. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of something. Something he hoped would be everything his heart cried out for.

Louis shifted, pulling him closer still, and as Harry basked in it, soaking up every moment, Louis spoke, voice soft and sleepy.

“Morning love. Your bed’s comfy,” he trailed off at the end, words distorted by a huge, satisfying sounding yawn.

Harry turned in Louis’ arms, wriggling to face him, oh so aware of the warmth, and the expanse of Louis’ naked skin, soft and pliant against him. “ _You’re_ comfy.” He breathed it into Louis’ skin, nibbling his way along Louis’ shoulder, and up his neck, taking the delicate skin of his earlobe between his teeth, and biting gently. He followed it with a soft kiss, before resting his head on the pillow, and looking at Louis. It was only his second time seeing the privilege that was Louis in the morning, soft, still waking up, looking breath-taking, mussed-up hair, sleepy eyes and all. 

Harry pressed a kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose, and voice shaky from the sheer beauty of it all, asked, “Are you ok Lou? After last night?”

Louis nuzzled the side of Harry’s jaw, before biting along his jawline, working his way to Harry’s mouth, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth. He kissed at the same spot, before moving and placing the softest of kisses to Harry’s cheekbone, smiling into it. “ _So_ ok Harry. More than ok.”

That was all Harry needed to hear. They’d both laid it all on the line last night, had taken a risk for each other. And knowing that it was worth it, that it still stood, all these hours later. That was all the reassurance Harry needed, to know that the feeling, the feeling of something a lot like love, was safe and secure in Louis’ hands.

……..

“Morning Lou Lou,” Sophia walked over to Louis, looking happier than he’d seen her in a long time, “You look good Lou, did you sort everything out with Harry?”

He pulled her into a one-armed hug, no customers around, still early in the morning. “We did, yeah, we sorted everything out. Thanks for your advice Soph. It’s great now actually. So thanks for putting up with me the other day, was being a bit dramatic.”

She planted a bright red kiss to his cheek and took a step back, wiping away the lipstick mark she’d left behind, “Your welcome Lou, any time, you know that. I might not be older, but you _know_ I’m wiser.”

He resisted the temptation to flip her off, instead, he just stuck his tongue out, and, failing to suppress his grin, drew her back into the hug, agreeing, somewhat grudgingly. “Suppose it would seem that way Soph. So wise for one so young. But I’m prettier, and you know it.”

It was only a customer, arms loaded down with clothes, huffing behind them, that stopped, what Louis knew would have been a playful slap, or at least a sharp finger-nailed poke in the side.

With a muttered, “Yeah, yeah whatever you say Lou Lou,” Sophia was off, professional head back on, taking the clothes from the customer and directing them towards the changing rooms. Before she disappeared out of sight, she shot a look back over her shoulder, and stuck her tongue out, mouthing, “later”, in Louis’ direction.

Left to his own devices, and without his phone - company policy - Louis headed over to one of the racks, and started to rearrange the jumble of jumpers customers had left behind, back into colour grouping, and size order. He felt happy. Not happy to be rearranging piles of clothes per se, no one would class that as a highlight of the job. Happy that he and Harry had sorted everything out. With them on the same page, even coming from entirely different experiences, totally different ends of the spectrum, he felt content. And lighter than he had in a long time.  

He wasn’t good at being honest, not as a general rule. He wasn’t a liar, quite the opposite in fact, never struggled to voice his opinion. But when it came to the things that really mattered, the things that had the potential to really hurt, he knew he tended to hold back. But not this time, not with Harry. And it felt surprisingly good. And even more unexpectedly, natural.

Being an open book could only be a good thing he supposed. It made it that much easier to read what was going on, and to be on the same page, even if some of them were crumpled and dog-eared. They were in unchartered territory, writing their own story, creating new chapters. Not unpicking, not editing what had been and gone before them.

…..

_See you in a bit :) going to jump in the shower, but then I’m all yours. L xx_

Harry had left work early, and was on his way to Louis’, detouring at just one or two places on the way.

He had a plan, well kind of. Louis had told him he was still feeling down about the feedback on his designs. And Harry wanted to do something about it, wanted to show Louis just how amazing his work was, and how much faith he had in him. Just because Louis wasn’t in the luxurious position of being able to make a career of it, _yet_ , didn’t mean the work he did was any less special. Or that he was any less talented.

As he walked to Louis’, bags tucked under his arm, he hoped it would work, hoped it would show Louis how special and talented he was.

…..

As soon as Louis opened the front door, Harry pulled him into his arms, feeling Louis’ hair damp from the shower, taking in the lavender scent that made him smile. To know that Louis still used his gift from weeks ago. With Louis still wrapped in his arms, only a fluffy towel wrapped around his hips, Harry staggered forwards, over the threshold of the front door, both of them laughing, Harry kicking the door shut behind them.

Harry pressed a kiss to Louis’ lips, and deepened it, delving his tongue in as Louis’ mouth dropped open with a soft sigh. He pressed Louis against the hallway wall and dropped his bags, placed his hands on either side of Louis’ face, and mouthed his way along his jaw, sucking sharply at the junction between Louis’ jawline and neck. As Harry kissed bruises into his collarbone, Louis tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair. Louis’ head crashed back against the wall, and he cried out a strangled, “Fuck, _yes_ , Harry,” as he jerked his hips forward, leaving Harry in no doubt of the effect he was having on him, cock hard, and standing away from his stomach through the thin layer of fabric wrapped around his waist.

Harry, hard in his trousers, fought against every instinct telling him to carry on teasing Louis apart seam by seam. He dragged himself away, and took Louis’ hands in his, leading him into the flat, picking up his bags as he went.

He guided a dazed and confused looking Louis to his bedroom, and down onto his bed, sitting next to him.

“You look lovely Lou, _so_ beautiful,” shaking his head to compose himself, Harry carried on, holding the bags up between them. “So I thought we could do a thing? Like an experiment, kind of?” He hoped this would work, wanted it to work. Seeing Louis puzzled expression, he put the bags back down, and leant forward, closing the gap between them, and placed a tender kiss to Louis’ temple, “Just humour me Lou? Please.”

….

“Ok, what do you think of them Lou?”

Louis still wasn’t sure what was going on, but as he looked in the mirror, dressed in the clothes Harry had bought him, he smiled fondly. The clothes themselves weren’t anything special, just a plain light blue t-shirt, and dark blue skinny jeans. But the fact that Harry had got them for him, made them special.

As if he could read his mind, Harry jumped in, “Lou, I can see it written all over your face. Forget that I got them for you. Just as clothes. How do you think they look?”

Louis looked at himself properly, and quirked an eyebrow as replied, “They’re nice, I like them. Would be good for a weekend I guess?”

“And how do they make you feel Lou?” Harry pressed further, soft smile on his face.

Louis gave it some thought before he answered, “Just comfortable I suppose? Don’t know, don’t know if I get a ‘feel’ from them? Am I meant to?” He looked at Harry, still not sure what was going on.

“Just stay there for a sec, ok?’ Harry walked over to Louis’ wardrobe, and asked before opening it, “Do you mind?”

Louis just shook his head, said, “Go for it”, and sat on the edge of his bed, still no clue what Harry was doing.

He came back with a midnight blue shirt, and a pair of matching trousers, both of which Louis had made himself. “Put these on now Lou.”

Doing as he was told, Louis stripped off the clothes he was wearing, handed them back to Harry, and pulled on the trousers and shirt, doing up the fly on the trousers, and buttons on the shirt, before turning back to face Harry again.

Looking a little smug, Harry took hold of Louis’ hand and spoke, gently, “Look in the mirror now Lou.”

As he turned to face the mirror, Harry carried, “How do you think you look Lou?”

Taking in his reflection, Louis smiled, “Good, yeah, I look good.”

Harry looked at him softly, and asked one more question, “And how do you feel Lou?”

Louis didn’t need to look in the mirror again, he knew, and he was starting to realise what Harry had been up to all along, “I feel great, I feel happy I guess. Like the best version of me. Is that weird?”

Harry got up off the bed and closed the distance between them. He stood behind Louis and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Not weird at all Lou, not at all.” He placed a gentle kiss to the side of Louis’ head, and asked, “Why do you think that is Lou? What is it about them?”

Louis looked at them both in the mirror, wrapped together, and fell for Harry even harder. He whispered it out, “Because I made them, because they’re mine.” And he sounded surprised, stunned by the revelation.

“You’re _so_ talented Louis. I just want you to see it. Do you see it?” Harry asked, holding Louis close.

Louis turned in Harry’s arms, and kissed him hard, crashing their lips together, trailing his hands up to tangle in Harry’s hair and pull him in deeper. As Harry’s lips dropped open eagerly, Louis took everything he was offered, running his tongue over the roof of Harry’s mouth, the kiss a mess of teeth, lips, and small smiles.

As they broke apart, Louis feeling more wrecked than any kiss has the right to cause, looked up into Harry’s smiling eyes, and said the words he couldn’t stop from tumbling out, “God, I have no idea what I did to deserve you. You’re unbelievable.”

Harry, smiled into another kiss, and couldn’t do anything other than agree, “Same Lou, _so_ same. And you deserve everything, just let me show you.”

…..

“Fuck _Harry,_ fucking hell.” Louis was on his back half-naked, lying on his bed with Harry straddling him, looming over him, feeling as wrecked as Louis looked.

Harry lifted Louis’ hips and pulled his trousers off carefully, even in the heat of the moment, treating them with care. He stood and placed them on the chair next to the bed, coming back to nestle between Louis’ thighs, running his hands up and down Louis’ legs, his muscles trembling under Harry’s touch.

He mouthed his way up Louis’ body, placing gentle kisses to his hips, suckling his way up his stomach, laving his tongue in Louis’ belly button, causing him to thrust up into thin-air. He moved up further, sucking and nibbling Louis nipples, wringing moan after moan out of him, before shifting to put his weight on him, grinding their hips, hard, sensitive cocks rubbing together.

“Fuck Harry, that’s…” Louis shuddered as Harry licked a long stripe up his side, from the bottom of his ribs to his armpit, nuzzling at the soft hair, and drinking Louis in. Harry bit at the soft skin of Louis’ bicep, and teasing another shuddering moan out of him, crashed their mouths together in a kiss that was lacking finesse, but overflowing with pure want, and the need to please.

“So gorgeous Lou, so sexy, I hope you know.” Harry breathed out, between kissing Louis hard, and grinding down on to him. “Lou, can I…” Harry heaved, struggling to form words.

Louis was a mess, shuddering and trembling, moaning out a “Fucking _yes_ Harry,” even though Harry wasn’t sure he knew what he was agreeing to exactly. He was stunning, gripping the wooden headboard, arms stretched and taut, looking up at Harry, who was trying to calm himself down.

Finally, Harry slid his hands underneath Louis’ hips, trapping them between the mattress and Louis’ glorious arse. He leant forward and pressed an unexpectedly soft kiss to Louis lips, before he asked, voice full of wonder, “Lou, can I? You’re arse, _fuck_ , want to make you feel good, can I? Please, want to make you come.”

Louis nodded frantically, and Harry shifted, taking hold of him by the hips, gently turning him over and placing a pillow underneath him, before guiding him down onto it.   

“Can I eat you out Lou? Want to taste you, make you come with my tongue, please?’ Harry pressed kisses to Louis’ arse cheeks as he spoke, needing to be sure that Louis understood what he was asking for.

He looked up, and Louis was gazing at him with big eyes, pupils blown, nodding frantically, just about managing to stutter out a, “Fuck yes, of course, _please_.”

Harry, trying to calm his own shaking hands, took a breath and savoured the sight before him. Louis, stripped bare, letting him do this, trusting him to take him apart, piece by piece, in such an intimate way. Lost in the moment, Harry was only broken out of his reverie by Louis squirming underneath him, grinding his hips into the pillow, trying to find some trace of relief.   

‘Harry please, _need_ you,’ Louis whimpered, grabbing at the sheets, lifting his arse higher, trying to encourage Harry to touch him.

Harry shuffled down the bed, kneeling between Louis’ spread legs. He was determined to make Louis fall apart, wreck him slowly, make him feel special. To get him to feel just how much he meant to him.

He ran his hands over each of Louis’ delicate feet, placing gentle kisses to each anklebone in turn, sucking and nibbling at each of his toes, making Louis squirm underneath him. He knew he was driving Louis slowly to the brink, but he couldn't help it, he adored every inch of him. He slowly massaged and kneaded his calf muscles, biting at the meaty flesh, Louis thrashing about and moaning softly. He moved on to massage Louis’ muscled thighs, biting the soft flesh where his thighs met his arse, causing Louis shudder and shake, Harry having to pull him up by the hips to stop him from grinding down on to the pillow and mattress beneath it.

“Please Harry, please, need you…” Louis all but begged, looking over his shoulder, eyes wild and hair a mess.  

He put Louis out of his blissful misery, and finally massaged each fleshy arse cheek, kneading at the soft skin. He ran his hands over the base of Louis’ spine, and parted Louis’ cheeks, spreading them wide. He was beautiful, every bit of him. Harry leant forward and licked one long stripe from Louis’ balls to his hole. Boosted by Louis shuddering reaction, he pressed his face in deeper and licked softly at Louis’ rim, laving over it, alternating between soft kisses, and firm, more purposeful presses of his tongue. As he carried on fucking into him with his tongue, holding Louis still, he felt Louis’ muscles start to give. Savouring the fresh taste of him, just a hint of musk, Harry pressed at the base of his own cock, moaning, trying to focus on Louis alone.

Harry’s tongue pushed past the tight ring of muscle, and Louis, the heat of him, engulfed him. Louis squirmed as he pushed his tongue in as deep as it would go, before pulling out, chin covered in spit, only to press right back in again, a little further each time.

‘Oh _fuck_ Harry, christ, your fucking tongue, _oh_ …’ Louis dissolved into a loud moan as Harry pressed a finger in alongside his tongue. As he looked up, over the mounds of Louis’ arse cheeks, tongue and finger deep inside and fucking him for all he was worth, he could see Louis’ hands, one gripping at the sheets, tearing them off of the bed, knuckles white, the other pulling at his own hair frantically. He was wrecked, falling to pieces.  

Stroking a hand along the base of Louis’ spine, he could feel him quivering around his tongue. Searching, he pushed his finger in more deeply and crooked it, feeling and finding the bundle of nerves he was looking for. As he stroked and pressed down, Louis broke. ‘Oh my god, _oh my god_ , Harry, fuck…’  He seized up, every muscle tight and taut, and came in a long silent cry, shaking and shuddering, untouched.

With Louis tensing around his tongue, Harry ground down on to the bed once, gasping for air, before coming himself, moaning into Louis’ arse, leaving the sheets underneath him a soaking mess.

……...

They were packing up for the day, client meetings done, diaries organised for the week ahead, when Nick asked the question Harry hadn’t even considered.

“So, Harry, is Louis doing something special for your birthday? It's not far off now is it?” He sat on the corner of Harry’s desk, and waited, clearly not expecting Harry’s hesitation.

Harry hadn’t thought about it at all, had never been in a relationship long enough to have to think about it. He sat back in his chair, and played absentmindedly with his rings, before he answered, sounding taken aback, even to himself, “Erm, I don’t know really, I suppose we’ll see. It’s not a big deal, just another day really, isn’t it?”

Nick shook his head, and stayed, perched on his desk, clearly not placated by Harry’s answer, “Harry, come on, you do, like, a two-week countdown, you never shut up about it.” And after a pause, Harry squirming, Nick worked it out, “You have told him haven’t you?….Harry, you _haven’t_ told him. Oh for god’s sake. Come on. He’ll be pissed off if you don’t give him a chance to spoil you. Just let him, ok?”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t told him, more that it just hadn’t occurred to him, that was all. He wasn’t sure why Nick was being quite so dramatic. He was about to tell him as much when his phone buzzed in his pocket. With that, Nick stalked off, back to his own desk, tutting under his breath, and Harry rummaged in his jacket pocket, found his phone, and smiled at the sight of Louis’ name.

_Alright love? Room for a couple of little ones? Lxx_

And then.

_That means we’re outside and waiting, impatiently, for you :) xx_

He looked at Nick, and without saying a word, Nick waved him away, shouting after him as he went, “Just tell him when your bloody birthday is Styles, or so help me!”

……..

“Hi Millie, how are you?” Harry crouched down as he spoke to her, from where she was hiding behind Louis’ legs, looking unusually timid.

“Come on Millie, it’s my Harry, you remember, from the other week, we did colouring?” Louis wriggled and moved, so that he could scoop Millie up into his arms, and balance her on his hip.

She still didn’t look convinced, hiding her face in Louis’ shoulder. He just shrugged his shoulders, and spoke, shooting a wink in Harry’s direction, “It’s probably all a bit much, isn’t it Mills? The train, and the tube, silly Louis, we should have stayed at home, shouldn’t we? Maybe we should just go back home?”

At that, Millie perked up, and placed a kiss to Louis’ cheek, squeezing his face in her little hands. “No. It’s alright, let’s not go home. And you’re not silly Louis. Come on, let’s go.” She wriggled in his arms, and Louis crouched, placing her back down on the ground, giving Harry another wink.

Louis took hold of one of Millie’s hands, Harry grabbing the other as she dragged them off in the direction of the park across the road from Harry’s office. Confidence mysteriously back, she stated, “Come on you two. Let’s go feed the ducks.”

They walked the short distance to the park, Millie chuntering away between the two of them, remarking on every dog they passed, skipping and jumping, trying to swing between the two of them. Harry couldn’t help but notice the looks they got from the people passing by, smiles and little nods that had him thinking thoughts of a future, hopefully not too far off.

As they reached the park, Millie wrestled her hands free, and ran for it, tiny rucksack bouncing on her back, curls flowing behind her.

They closed the gap she’d left between them, and carried on after her, fingers linked together, holding hands. Seeing her running off in the direction of the nearby lake, Harry, looked at Louis and asked, “Is she ok Lou? Do we need to catch her up?”

Louis smiled, and stopped, placing a small kiss to Harry’s lips, before pulling him on in the direction of Millie, who was already at the lake and rummaging in her rucksack. “She’s ok, just excited to feed the ducks I reckon.”

As they helped Millie break up her slices of stale bread, and fend off the slightly over-eager geese, Harry took a step back and chanced a look at Millie and Louis. Louis looked happy, _really_ happy. He obviously adored Millie. And the feeling was mutual as far as Harry could tell, with Millie looking back at Louis every time she managed to throw a piece of bread particularly far, Louis heaping praise on her. Or running back to him if any of the ducks got too much for her, Louis shooing them off, and tickling her under the chin to take her mind off of it.

They were very cute together. And Harry couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help but imagine what that might be like. The two of them, in the future, with their own child. He knew he was getting miles ahead of himself. But after their talk the other night, and Louis not running offf, seemingly not alarmed but Harry’s honest truth of what he wanted in the future, he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous, Maybe, although far off in the future, his wish, his dream that had felt so abstract just a few weeks ago, maybe it wasn’t such a pipe-dream after all.

….

They were at Harry’s, Niall out for the night, Louis arriving with bags of takeaway and a bottle of wine, straight from work.

They sat on the floor in the living room, propped against the sofa, plates of Chinese food on the coffee table in front of them, as they watched trashy TV - Project Runway to be precise - which, as it turned out, Louis had something of a love-hate relationship with.

“Lou, why do you watch it, if it annoys you so much?” Harry asked, between mouthfuls of food.

Louis took another sip of wine, and pulled an exasperated face before he explained, “Well, you know, I can live vicariously through them, and be annoyed that it’s not me at the same time, right?”

Harry put his glass down, and draped his arm over Louis’ shoulder, pulling him into his side. He placed a kiss to the top of Louis’ head, as he tried to reassure him, “You’re much better than them Lou. You’d wipe the floor with them, honest.”

Louis looked up at him fondly, and laughing around the dumpling he’d decided to eat at that very moment, swallowed, and replied, “Thanks love, but I think you might be just a tiny bit biased. Nothing wrong with that though, I love having you in my corner.” Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, Louis placed a kiss to Harry’s lips, and squeezed his hand, before going back to heckling the TV.

Full and sleepy, finally Project Runway’d out, they dozed on the sofa, Louis in Harry’s arms for a change. Just as they were drifting off, Louis’ phone buzzed, loud on the glass coffee table, making them jump. He stretched to reach it without breaking contact with Harry, and dragging it towards him with a chopstick, he saw it was his mum.

_Hi lovely. Just checking in with you. Give us a call. Mum xx_

And then another.

_Oh, and I keep meaning to ask, have you booked your Paris trip yet? Mum xx_

Louis had often thought he had some kind of psychic link with his mum, and this only went to deepen that belief. He’d been thinking about Paris all week, ever since, Harry had told him, that day in the park with Millie, that his birthday was coming up. He’d been umming and ahhing about whether it was too soon, whether it was getting too serious. But it felt right. And Louis was trying to have faith, to trust, to just go with things.

So he did.

He wriggled in Harry’s arms, turning around to face him, and placed a kiss to the tip of his nose, looking at him in that adoring way that he just couldn’t help.

“Love, don’t feel like you have to or anything. But mum keeps pestering me to get organised, wants me to take a break from work.” And he knew he sounded nervous, he could hear it clear as day, the way his voice trembled. But he ploughed on regardless, spurred on by Harry holding him close and looking at him like he was something special, “So I just wondered, and I really get it, if you’d rather not.

“But, how would you feel about going to Paris? With me?”

Honestly, he’d never seen anything like it, the way Harry just lit up, the way his smile took over his entire face, the way his eyes sparkled.

Harry sounded an absolutely endearing mix of shocked and overjoyed as he replied, pulling Louis into a hug that spoke volumes.

“Lou, I would love to.”


	13. Chapter 13

Louis woke up gradually, the day breaking through in soft bursts of conversation carrying on somewhere outside, breeze tickling his skin, Harry nestling back into him ever more closely. He drifted in and out of sleep, only partly aware of the hotel, of the city, bustling into life around them. What he did know, even in that strange space between wide awake and completely asleep, was that every sound, every sensation, each and every breath he took, it was all magnified, intensified, made better, by being with Harry.

Being with Harry in _Paris_.

It had been a bit of a rush to get organised. And from the conversation just a couple of weeks ago, where Harry had pulled Louis into his arms and said those earnest words, ‘Lou, I would love to,’ life had tried very hard to get in their way. They’d both had to beg and plead to get time off at such short notice. And they’d had to scale back their plans, from a week in Paris, to a long weekend. But they’d made it. They’d arrived late at night. And even the packed Eurostar, the overly-expensive taxi ride to the hotel, and rain that had greeted them - none of it managed to dampen their spirits.

As Louis pulled the cool cotton sheets up around them, he shifted drawing Harry closer to him still, soaking up the warmth, basking in the ability to just _be_. To just _enjoy._ To just _have_.

He thought back to the first time they’d met, where he’d had to grab hold of Harry, to hang on to him to keep him standing. Smiling to himself at the memory he felt overwhelmed by thoughts he wasn’t quite ready to put into words. Instead, he parted Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck, and pressed soft kisses to his warm skin, stifling a giggle as Harry tried to swat him away in his sleep. That was not the reaction he’d been hoping for. But that was probably one of the things he loved most about Harry, his ability to surprise him, his ability to be open and honest with his feelings. It was a rare and precious thing, and he’d do everything in his power to allow Harry to carry on being his glorious, ridiculous, wonderful, imperfect self.

…….

“ _Louuu,_ ” Harry’s voice was thick with sleep and scratchy, even deeper than usual, as he tried albeit half-heartedly, to squirm away from Louis’ tickly kisses. He was just so cozy, and moving, well moving would mean disturbing the cocoon of sheets they’d wrapped themselves in during the course of the night.

Instead of stopping, Louis just held on to Harry as he wriggled and giggled, carried on pressing kisses to the back of his neck before moving to trail kisses down his shoulder. Harry shuddered in Louis’ arms, breath catching in his throat as kisses turned into teeth. Louis teased at his shoulders, nibbling first, before biting more firmly on the thick band of muscle that stretched from the centre of his spine to his shoulder.

 _“Louuu,”_ this time Harry’s voice was thick with something other than sleep, and summoning up energy that he didn’t really have, he turned in Louis’ arms to face him, not able to bear feeling him, without seeing him any longer.

“Morning, my petit croissant,” Louis placed a soft kiss to his lips as he spoke, grinning into it. He pulled Harry towards him, cradling his head in his hands and drawing him in to deepen the kiss.

And Harry couldn’t help it, a second ago, he’d wanted Louis to bite him all over, to ravish him, to take him apart piece by piece, but not now, now he was laughing, shoulders shaking, the heat from earlier replaced by something so much softer. His lips were still pressed to Louis’, but the urgency of it was gone, crinkly eyes and soft touches left in its place.

“Oh my god _Lou_ , you didn’t tell me you were fluent,” brushing Louis’ fringe out of his eyes, he ran his thumb along Louis’ cheekbone and pressed a soft, smiley, kiss there, lingering.

As he dragged himself away from Louis’ lips, he spoke, trying to sound serious, while knowing that the teasing lilt to his voice would undermine every word. “Honestly Lou, that’s going to come in so handy, because I don’t speak a word of it!”

At that, Louis shifted and moved his hands down to grip Harry’s arse, earning a little gasp of surprise.

“Harold, you’re the _actual_ worst, do you know that?” Louis asked, delight sparkling in his eyes, words contradicted loud and clear by the adoring expression on his face. “Anyone would think you were _doubting_ me,  _mocking_ me…”

Harry cut him off by crashing their lips together, pressing a determined tongue into his mouth, earning a whimper, and a soft moan of “Christ _Harry_.” He shifted, sheets low around their hips to straddle Louis, trailing his lips down his neck and sucked hard at the soft skin just below his collarbone, Louis’ hips stuttering up to meet his own. Grinding his hips down on to Louis' warm, naked flesh, he took both of Louis’ hands in his and held them against the sheets above his head. Finally, Louis exactly where he wanted him, he licked sloppily into his ear, and suckled on his earlobe, words hot and breathy, “I need to eat Lou, I’m starving.”

“What..w...hat do you mean?” was all that Louis could shudder out, before Harry was up and off the bed, walking towards the phone in the corner of the room.

…..

“Oh my god _Lou_ , this is incredible.”

Louis had just about pulled himself together, and as he sat watching Harry devour the breakfast they’d ordered, or Harry had ordered, he could almost forgive the food spread out in front of them for ruining what he’d hoped was going to be a lazy, but eventful, lie-in.

Their room was spectacular. They’d agreed back in London, that they’d go for luxury, seeing as they were only going to be there a few days. They'd pooled Louis’ birthday money and the remains of Harry’s bonus, and after searching online for hours they'd finally found a little hotel that had looked perfect. And it was. Perfect.

The hotel itself was small, a pale grey stone building covered almost entirely in ivy hanging down in long, wispy curtains. It was tucked down a cobbled side street, as far as Louis could remember from the taxi journey. But its traditional facade hid a modern, luxurious interior that was more than Louis could have hoped for. Their room was more of a suite really. Floor to ceiling sash windows, framed with pale duck egg blue organza curtains that let the light stream in. They’d opened the doors that led to a Juliet balcony, so the cool February breeze drifted around the room waking them up, getting them ready for the day. The bed took up the majority of one side of the room. And he’d never thought of himself as a great romantic, but the dark wood four-poster bed, with the same duck egg blue fabric draped over it and wrapped around each post - even with the sheets rumpled - took his breath away. He couldn’t wait to spend long, late nights, and equally long, late mornings with Harry exploring ever inch of it. Every inch of Harry for that matter.

It was only a groan from Harry that broke him out of the daze he’d been in. Louis turned to face him, and nothing, nothing in their room, or any room, anywhere, could compare. Harry simply smiled around the strawberry he was eating, and grabbed Louis’ hand across the small whitewashed wooden table they were sitting at, thumbing gently over his knuckles.  

“You ok Lou? You look a bit spaced out? Are you tired? Here, have this baby.”

Harry handed Louis the tea he’d been drinking, brows furrowed in concern. He looked stunning, his long hair pulled up into a loose bun with stray curls framing his face, highlighted by the sunlight streaming in behind him like a halo, bare chested, skin pale save for the tattoos that stood out in stark contrast, completely naked. Louis felt warmth settling in his stomach that he knew very well had nothing to do with the tea, he lifted Harry’s hand and placed a soft kiss to the paper thin skin on the inside of his wrist, at peace with the mere thought of them spending three whole days together.

……..

As they sat at the little table, eating breakfast in a comfortable silence, Paris waking up all around them, Harry couldn’t help the little seed of doubt that was threatening to sprout and take root. Glamorous women with tiny dogs strolled past down below. Elderly men, newspapers in hand, greeted old acquaintances with handshakes and back slaps. And Harry was thinking. In fact, Harry was over-thinking. And he knew it.

Looking at Louis, so soft, hair all over the place, glasses on and expanses of golden skin on display, Harry couldn’t help but feel that he was in danger of cramping Louis’ style. This was Louis’ trip, this was Louis’ treat from his parents and Harry’s stomach clenched at the thought that he might stop him from doing everything he wanted to while he was there. From getting the most of out the trip. Louis hadn’t done a single, solitary thing to make him doubt that he wanted him there. In fact, quite the opposite. On the journey over they’d looked at Harry’s dog-eared guidebook and the list of websites Louis had come across, and narrowed down everything they wanted to do. And Louis had gone all crinkly-eyed when they’d agree their plans.

But still.

He played with the rings on his fingers, willing himself to get over it and get on with enjoying their trip. But the more Louis smiled at him, the more Louis looked at him in that intimate, private, way of his, the more Harry realised that he had to trust his gut instinct and just tell Louis what was bothering him.

So he did.

He scooted his chair closer to Louis’ and took both of his hands in his, before taking a deep, hopefully calming, breath.

“Lou, the plan we agreed on the train? Can we look at it again?”

With a squeeze to his hand, and an, ‘of course’, Louis was off, rummaging in his bag for his ipad, coming back and setting it up between them.

As Harry looked at their schedule he could feel himself frowning, of course there were places on there that Louis picked, but he couldn’t help feeling like there were too many things on their plan that were just for him. And it didn’t seem fair.

He could see Louis watching him intently, and as he brought the keyboard up on the screen and went to delete one of his own picks, Louis placed a hand over his, stilling him, before he spoke, confusion clear in his voice.

“Why are you deleting that love? That’s what we agreed on, you wanted to go to all of those places?”

With Louis’ hand still firmly in place, Harry looked down for a moment before meeting Louis’ questioning gaze, answering as lightly, but firmly as he could.

“I did, I mean, I do. But it just seems like a lot of things for me,” and after a pause and another hesitant look in Louis’ direction, he carried on, “and this is your trip, just feel a bit like I’m taking over is all.”

The first thing Louis did was let go of Harry's hand. The second thing Louis did was close the gap between them, settling on Harry’s lap, legs dangling over one side of the chair. And the third thing Louis did was place a feather-light kiss to Harry’s temple, before leaning into him and speaking softly into his hair.

“Some secrets for you love. This isn’t _my_ trip, it’s _our_ trip, and I can’t wait to make memories with you. I’ve never been to any of the places you chose and can’t wait to see them. _And_ , even I sometimes get bored of fashion and want to mix it up a bit. Let’s do a day each and split the last one? How does that sound?”

He placed another kiss to Harry’s temple and rubbed at the crease between his brows soothing the frown away. He pressed another gentle kiss to Harry’s lips, before asking “Is that ok? I want you to have a good time too?”

Harry nodded, feeling light and fully free for the first time since they’d arrived, “That sounds good. That sounds great.”

At that, Louis, in only tiny black pants himself, jumped off Harry’s lap and took hold of one of his hands, pulling him up and out of the chair.

“Come on then love, much as it pains me to say it, but put some clothes on and we can get this show on the road.”

…..

Was it possible for a person to be made of sunshine? For a person to be so bright they radiated light?

These were the questions Harry found himself pondering as he watched Louis pottering around the museum he’d brought Harry to.

It was an entirely different world from any museum Harry had been to before. The Museum Of Fashion And Textiles, in the Louvre no less. Mannequin after mannequin lined each large room, some in large glass cases, some standing proud with only the occasional security guard or member of staff to protect them from inquisitive touches.

As they walked, Harry could see the timeline stretch out before him, straddling decades, centuries. The exhibition began with French Regency pieces, bright blue velvet frock coats and satin heeled shoes that had been owned by Louis XV. Ornate women’s dresses including items owned by the Queen, with full, hooped skirts and acres after acres of heavy embroidery.

It evolved through history itself, moving on through the 19th century and on into the 20th. An odd mix of grandeur and restraint, mirroring the timings of the first and second world wars - grand in times of peace, restrained during the course of each war. Harry felt a shiver ripple up his spine and physically shook, his movement catching Louis’ attention.

Pencil between his teeth, sketchbook in one hand, Louis wrapped his spare hand around Harry’s wrist and pulled him towards him until they were nestled close together, Louis easing his hand into the back pocket of Harry’s jeans to keep him in place.

Squeezing his bum, mischief in his voice as he spoke, pencil still in place, Louis asked “You bored H? We can go and get lunch in a bit? Won’t be long, just really love this place.”

And Harry could see that. From the moment they’d walked through the door Louis had been mesmerized scribbling down notes that Harry couldn’t make sense of, stopping to just look at certain items, stopping and sketching others in practiced, easy strokes of his pencil. He was in his element.

Harry loved it. In fact, in just a few short weeks, Harry would realise that this moment, this seemingly uneventful moment, watching Louis wander through this museum in the centre of Paris, would mark the point when his head and heart met fully on the same page. Where he didn’t just like Louis, but when he realised he was in love with him.

But that was for later. For now, Harry was blinded by the light, the energy pouring out of Louis, and was doing his best to function in the face of it.

“No...no, I’m not bored, not at all. Carry on, honestly, I like seeing you like this, really. They’re just a bit spooky aren’t they, like a room full of ghosts of something?” he said, still pressed close to Louis, hips bumping.

Louis tucked the pencil behind his ear and placed the sketchbook on the floor. With both hands free, he turned to fully face Harry and stepped close, sliding a hand into each of his back pockets, pulling Harry towards him, standing on his tip toes to brushes the tip of his nose, cold from the air-con, against Harry’s.

“Hadn’t really thought of it like that, but yeah I guess they are a bit. Don’t worry though love, I’m here to protect you. I’ll scare them off if they come and bother you.” He placed a soft kiss to Harry’s lips before taking a step back, crouching to pick his sketchbook back up.

Taking Harry’s hand in his they walked, with Louis calling back over his shoulder, “Come on, let’s go look at the stuff from the 60s. It’s more fun, no ghosts there, just might need to put your sunnies on though, they liked things pretty bright back then, do you know what I mean?”

And Harry just nodded, already feeling like he was staring at the sun.

……

“So Lou, this why you sleep naked then? With just a spritz of No.5?”

Harry squeezed his hand as he whispered it, the boutique, quiet, save for the classical music floating faintly around them.

Louis, turned and poked his tongue out, earning a questioning raised eyebrow from one of the impeccably polished looking women, stood, discreetly amongst the displays of clothes.

“Of course, I mean, Marilyn Monroe’s a pretty good inspiration isn’t she?” Louis replied, winking, before wandering off to look at the clothes that framed the large, open space.

They were probably a bit of an odd sight, two men in a women’s clothes shop, Louis taking notes and sketches, Harry wandering around and spraying various perfumes on himself. But they didn’t care.   

As he weaved his way through the display cases and racks of clothing, Louis wondered if he could get away with, discreetly, taking a few photos. But looking around and seeing a sales assistant approaching, he thought better of it.

She spoke, in heavily accented English, “Good afternoon Sir, do you need help with anything?”

The fleeting thought of pretending to be actually shopping, passed in a blink of an eye, the knowing look on her face, and the fact he still had his sketchbook open in his hand, making him think better of it.

“Oh no, I’m just looking thanks, Coco’s just a bit of a heroine of mine, that’s all,” and the sales assistant's smile and nod, spurred him on, “I want to be a designer. Menswear, so don’t worry, not going to steal any ideas,” he held his sketchbook up at that point, “had to come here, can’t come to Paris and not pay homage can I?”

With a polite, “Of course, carry on, please,” she sauntered back to the fitting rooms, giving Louis a final smile and reassuring nod.

“Hey, Lou!” Harry called, waving from across the other side of the boutique, perfume bottle in his hand.

Walking over to him, Louis could see that Harry’s cheeks were tinted with a soft blush, creeping down his neck. Closing the gap between them, he rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Love, you smell amazing, what is that?” he asked, nuzzling deeper into Harry’s curls, cascading loose over his shoulders.

As he looked up, he could see the blush on Harry’s cheeks deepening. He looked a combination of adorable, and unfairly handsome, making Louis’ head spin, momentarily losing track of their conversation. Finally, Harry, chewing nervously on his lower lip, spoke.

“Erm, it’s a bit of everything. Ran out of wrists to spray them all on. Think I like this one the best though.” And he held up a simple flat, circular bottle, the liquid inside the faintest shade of pink.

“Well, you smell gorgeous,” Louis took another deep inhale, “you should definitely get it.”

As Harry hesitated, Louis took a small step back, and looked at him. Harry was looking down at the bottle in his hands, something, clearly holding him back.

On a deep breath, he looked up, and met Louis’ gaze, “I could always look at the men’s stuff. There’s probably something I’d like there just as much.”

Before he could say another word, Louis took the little bottle in one hand, and Harry’s hand in the other, striding purposely over to the sales assistant from earlier.

“Can I get this for my boyfriend please?’, and turning back to Harry, giving his hand another squeeze, “You’re just...I’m not sure if I _like_ like you covers it enough any more.”

……..

They turned down a side street, and the hustle and bustle of central Paris faded behind them, the narrow cobbled street, with three-storey buildings standing tall on either side of them, effectively shielding them from everything that wasn’t their hands clasped together, their hips bumping as they walked.

“Where are you taking me Lou?”

“Somewhere you’ll like I reckon. I hope you’re hungry?”

Harry’s stomach chose that very moment to let out a loud growl of its own, obnoxious in the quiet surroundings.

Laughing, Louis walked them further through the rabbit warren of back streets, “I’ll take that as a yes then?”

They reached the restaurant, it was tiny, only the size of a standard terraced house, tables and chairs spilling out on to the street, a red and white striped awning casting a shadow over the tables and chairs, dressed with simple white tablecloths, and red and white checked napkins.

As they settled at one of outdoor tables, Harry took his phone out, and started taking photo after photo of the table, the striped awning, the view back down the street they’d walked down.

“You ok there love?” Louis asked, nudging Harry’s foot under the table.

“Yeah, of course,” and giving Louis an especially soft look, Harry carried on, “always.”

“It’s so romantic here Lou. Feel like we’ve discovered a secret. Thank you, for bringing me here.”

Louis squeezed his hand across the table, linking their fingers together, and resting them on the pristine white tablecloth.

“You are so welcome, but you haven’t seen the best of it yet!”

…….

Bottle of wine between them, and a brandy each to finish, they wandered back to their hotel, joined hands swinging between them, cheeks rosy, oblivious to the chill in the air.

Drawing the words out, Harry spoke, “Soooo, Lou, you never told me you were a Disney geek? Reckon I’ve got food splattered all over my face probably!”

Louis stopped walking then, and placed his hand of his heart, in a dramatic gesture, “You wound me Sir. That was an original idea I’ll have you know. Not at all inspired by Lady and the Tramp.”

As Harry, even more relaxed than normal, laughed and placed his own hand over Louis’ where it rested, he carried on.

“In fact, Lady and the who? I just felt like sharing my food. And I happened to order spaghetti and meatballs. What a weird co-incidence? And, I’m generous like that.”

“So generous,” Harry whispered, still smiling.

Louis placed a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips, licking a long stripe up the side of Harry’s face, laughing, before he pulled away.

“Come on love, let’s go get cleaned up. Can’t have us walking the streets of Paris, a fashion capital, covered in god knows what can we?”

…….

The bath was off to one side of the suite, next to one of the windows they’d opened to let the Paris night flood in. It was a white porcelain, roll top number. And huge. Which was just as well, as they were both in it. Harry at one end, with Louis nestled back into him, water precariously close to spilling over as they moved to get comfortable.

Harry, head lolling back, eyes dangerously close to closing, sleepy from the food, the wine, the warmth, revelled in the feeling of being so close to Louis, skin on skin. And even in a sleepy state, he could feel every move Louis made, body and mind trained to every touch, every sensation.

He slid his hands down from the edge of the bath, to Louis’ stomach, fingertips tracing lazy patterns before settling on his hips. He kissed down the side of his neck, coming to rest by his ear, and taking Louis’ earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it, he asked, “Can I?” while moving one hand lower still.

He could feel Louis’ smile before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was breathy and light, “Of course love.”

The water made everything warm, the bath oil made each touch slide. He took Louis’ cock in his hand, already half hard, and gave it a gentle stroke. Even that one touch, earnt a ‘fuck _yes_ ’ out of Louis, his head dropping back to rest on Harry’s chest. As he moved, twisting his hand on each up stroke, the water splashed, and cascaded over the edge of the bath and on to the floor below.

“Fuck Harry, that feels, _urgh,_ carry on…” Louis trailed off, Harry knowing by the tremble of his thigh muscles that he was starting to get close. As he sucked at the junction of Louis’ neck and shoulder, he bit once, causing Louis’ hips to shoot up and stutter, “Fuck, so close…” And then, unexpectedly, “Harry stop, I…”

Before he could start to worry, Louis moved, and twisted to face him, crashing their lips together, opening Harry up, pushing his tongue inside. He could feel Louis shaking all over, and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him, surrounding him as they kissed, Louis’ tongue, desperate, little needy whines escaping from the back of his throat as they broke apart.

He looked entirely wrecked, hair, wet and stuck to his face, pupils blown, lips red, but he somehow still managed to get the words out.

“Harry, _please_ , can I ride you? Need you inside me?”

….

“Fuck, Lou, _Jesus_ , you’re fucking…”

They’d stumbled out of the bath, quickly dried off, and crashed onto the bed, Harry flat on his back, looking at Louis, with something like wonder in his eyes.

Louis thought it almost every day, but _Harry_ , Harry was beautiful like this. His hair sprawled all around him, framing his face. His eyes were somehow deep, deep green, but sparkling still. And his chest was heaving, sweat beading on his temples, running down his neck, and pooling the hollows of his collarbone. He had his hands all over Louis, kneading his arse cheeks, before running his hands up and down the dimples at the bottom of his spine, while Louis, Louis grit his teeth and willed himself not to come. From the sight of Harry below him, to the sensation of his own fingers opening himself up. It was almost too much.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis circled Harry’s cock in one hand as he spoke, fully aware of just how big he was for the first time. Sure, he’d noticed, and appreciated it before, but now, heavy, velvety-smooth in his hand, the thought of sinking down on to him, taking him all the way in. It had him reeling, with a mix of overwhelming desire, and a tiny bit of concern.

He dropped forward, and kissed his way up Harry’s chest, licking and laving over each nipple in turn, causing Harry to shudder and buck underneath him, and as he looked up, and could see Harry gazing down at him, eyes dark, and full of need. Working his way up, he sucked bruises to the soft skin of Harry’s bicep, before moving to kiss the dips in his collarbone, tasting the salty sweat that gathered there, feeling himself get harder, at the overwhelming intimacy of it all. Harry’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, trying to pull him up, and as Louis moved to face him, he was taken aback by the soft expression on Harry’s face. The need was still there, but even so, it was nearly hidden, hidden by a look of pure, unbridled, emotion.

He was two fingers in, when Harry asked, “Let me?” and ran his hands down Louis’ back, coming to rest just over his hole. “Can I?” Louis just nodded, and shuddered, as Harry, propped up against the headboard, ran one hand up and down his back, the other circling around his hole, already relaxed from where Louis had been opening himself up.  

“Oh, god, _Harry_ ,” Louis head dropped forward to rest on Harry’s shoulder as he pushed two fingers into him. And Harry’s fingers were much larger than his own. He was pretty much there, relaxed, nearly ready. But still, he wanted to make sure, so he kissed Harry softly, words drifting into the quiet room, “More love, one more yeah?”

And, moaning out a long “Oh, _fuck…_ ” into the room, Louis felt full and finally ready as Harry slipped a third finger inside, stretching him, and making him whine, buck up into thin air, and grind back down on to his hand.

He scrabbled around, the room in half-light, to find the condom and lube, ripping open the condom, and sliding it on to Harry’s cock, with surprisingly steady hands. He squeezed lube onto his hand, and ran it up and down Harry’s cock, using what remained on himself, sliding three fingers in one last time, slipping and sliding, inside of his thighs slick and wet too.

He took deep, shaky, breaths as he went, one hand on Harry’s quivering stomach, the other on his thigh, arching back as he lowered himself down, and, _oh._ He felt even bigger than he looked. Louis stilled for a second, took another series of deep breathes, felt his muscles relax, and sank the rest of the way down, until he was fully seated. Harry’s cock in as deep as it would go. 

Body taut, Louis fell forwards, resting his head on Harry’s chest, feeling his heart pounding where he lay. As Harry ran his hand through his hair, Louis breathed it out, trying not to focus on anything other than relaxing, enjoying. “Just give me a sec yeah? You’re pretty, fucking, huge.”

And credit to him, Harry stayed perfectly still, even though Louis guessed that it was probably a struggle. Finally, discomfort replaced by a blissful sense of fullness, he sat back up, straddling Harry’s thighs, sparks flying, just from the friction of changing position.

Placing his hands on Harry’s stomach, he lifted himself nearly all the way off, before dropping right back down again, filling himself up, and fucking down on to Harry. He bounced up and dropped down, a couple more times, getting a feel for Harry. And, used to it, he wanted more. He liked gentle sex, but he had too much emotion in him, too much adrenaline, to much everything. He needed Harry to meet him halfway, and fuck him through it.

He arched back, and ground his hips, rocking back and forth, looking of that spot, the little bundle of nerves that would have him falling to pieces. As if he could read his mind, Harry leant forward, took hold of him in his arms, and pulled him back down, kissing him frantically, thrusting up into him, gently to start with, but with each “yes, yes, yes,” he dragged out of Louis, the harder and faster they got.  

Louis hung on for dear life, wrapped in Harry’s arms as he thrust up into him, the force lifting them up off of the bed, the headboard smacking against the wall, the fabric wrapped around the bed unravelling and falling onto them. Gasping for breath, and covered in sweat, Harry spoke, voice deeper, and almost hoarse with emotion, “My God, Lou, you feel incredible, so fucking _good._ ”

Somehow summoning up the energy, Louis prised himself up and away from Harry, sitting and grinding back in earnest, meeting each and every one of Harry’s thrusts. Finally, finally, they got the angle right, Harry fucking up, and Louis grinding down, right there, hitting his prostate spot on. And Louis screamed, high and loud into the room, probably loud enough for people in the other rooms, in the street down below, to hear. “Fuck _yes_ , that’s it love, right there, don’t stop, don’t stop…”

He was quivering all over, every nerve ending on alert, sparking and firing off, covering him in goosebumps, and he knew he was close. Knew it would only take one or two more thrusts to have him crashing into his orgasm. But it was looking down at Harry that did it, he was drenched in sweat, covered in bruises blooming from lovebites, and there was a deep furrow in his brow as he concentrated on making Louis feel good. Unable to stop himself, Louis seized up, back arched like a bow, as Harry thrust up into him, nearly knocking the wind out of him, hitting his prostate hard, one last time, before he came on a silent cry.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d zoned out for, but when he came to, he was trembling all over, aftershocks wracking his body, Harry perfectly still underneath him, looking at him intently, wanting to make sure it was okay to carry on.

“ _Please_ , want you to come,” Louis almost begged.

It only took a handful more thrusts, as deep as ever, the aftershocks wracking through Louis’ body, causing him to stay tense and clamped around Harry, before Harry was crashing into his own orgasm. the damn broken by Louis arching back and reaching between his legs, finger slick with lube, brushing at his hole, applying just a little pressure.

He came mid thrust, pulsing into Louis, frozen, up off of the mattress, hips jerking of their own accord, crying Louis’ name like a prayer, “Oh, god, Lou, Lou, _Lou_ ….”

…...

As they lay in bed, wind whistling through the room, sheets up to their chins, Harry snuggled back into Louis, his eyes drifting shut, Louis pressed kisses into his shoulder, and spoke, voice soft and tender.

“Harry, it’s after midnight.”

With the only response, Harry shuffling back further into his arms, Louis carried on, more quietly.

“Happy Birthday Eve love.”

And as Harry grinned into his pillow, he didn’t know if it was because Louis had remembered the ‘Birthday Eve’ thing from all those months ago; if it was because it was the first time he’d celebrate his birthday in a relationship; if it was because it was the first time he’d celebrate his birthday with Louis; or if it was all of those things. And it didn’t really matter.

…...


	14. Chapter 14

Harry wasn’t sure if it was a bit creepy, or just a normal part of falling for someone. Either way, as he lay in bed, best night’s sleep he’d had in a long time, he didn’t much care, and could absolutely get used to it. Just watching Louis, being near him. He was sure he could spend days, weeks, lifetimes in fact, just sharing his space. He was just so much, so many things.

Louis’ face was pressed into the pillow, hair falling across his forehead, the sheets sitting low, skimming the dimples at the bottom of his spine. And looking at him, watching the slow rise and fall of his back, holding back a soft chuckle as he grumbled in his sleep, Harry was pretty sure he wanted to wake up like this every single morning he had in him. Maybe not in Paris, he didn’t care where. Paris, London, where ever. He wanted to wake up to Louis. To be with Louis for as long as he’d have him.

His hand seemed to move of its own accord, reaching out for Louis, before he caught himself, hovering just an inch or two from the warmth he knew Louis’ skin held. There were a couple of reasons for hesitating, for one, Louis was so beautiful, so peaceful that he didn’t want to disturb him. But the biggest reason was Harry knew that if Louis were to wake up now, he’d see the love and adoration pouring out of him, feel it in every touch. And it wasn’t that Harry didn’t want Louis to know, to feel. It was more that he didn’t want to rush him. From the beginning, he’d been fighting to rein himself back in. He knew and felt privileged that he was the first person Louis had trusted in a long time. But now, months into this thing that was starting to feel a lot like love, Harry was pretty sure that as much as he’d tried to mask it, to reel it in, that Louis already knew how he felt about him, and hadn’t shied away from it. He seemed to trust Harry not to take that privilege for granted. So he went for it, love and care in the brush of his fingertips.

As he ghosted a touch down the side of Louis’ face, tracing the paper-thin skin under his eye, Louis shifted and let out a deep sigh, stilling Harry, his fingers tangled in Louis’ hair, mid-way through brushing it out of his eyes.  

“Morning love,” Louis, with his eyes still closed, moved into Harry’s touch, his voice tender and raspy as he seemed torn between trying to wake up, and dozing with Harry playing with his hair, scratching tiny circles into his scalp.

Harry shifted his weight and moved forward, placing a soft kiss to Louis’ sleep-chapped lips, and breathed his own, “Morning Lou,’ before wrapping his arms around him in a full body hug, “Did you have a nice sleep, sorry I woke you up, just looked so peaceful.”

He couldn’t see him, but Harry could feel Louis smiling against his bare shoulder, could hear the affection in his voice, “S’alright, can think of worse ways to get woken up,” and wriggling to move up to eye-level, Louis, both eyes open and sparkling with mischief now, pressed another kiss to Harry’s lips, before nibbling on his earlobe, and whispering, hot in Harry’s ear, “Think I deserve a proper kiss though, it’s the least I deserve. And then you can show me Paris ‘Harry-style’ seeing as it’s your day.”

Harry didn’t know whether to comply, or laugh at Louis’ pun, intentional or not. In the end he went with multi-tasking, crashing their lips together, too much teeth as they both grinned into it.

…….. 

“Come on Lou, need to pick up the pace, we’re nearly there,” Harry, brows furrowed, but expression still soft, pulled Louis along through the Bois de Vincennes, which according to their guidebook, was the largest public park in the whole of Paris. And normally Harry would have stopped to admire it, beautiful in it’s own right in the very beginnings of spring. But today he was on a mission, and that mission was not the park, well not really.

He turned and planted a quick peck to Louis’ lips, and seeing him, cheeks rosy, hair sticking to his forehead, wrapped up in a cozy-looking dark brown suede bomber jacket that he was most likely too hot in by now, he almost took pity on him, almost gave in and stopped. They could have their picnic anywhere, in the park would be fine. But he could see it, only a couple of hundred feet away. So on they went, Louis hanging on to his hand for dear life, Harry’s rucksack brim full with everything he needed.

As the lake came into view, Harry could feel Louis’ grip on his hand tighten further still, and as they walked up to the little wooden rowing boats that lined the bank, he turned and stopped, sliding his bag onto the grass by their feet, taking both of Louis’ icy hands in his.

“Wow Harry, it’s stunning.”

And it was, surprisingly deserted, the lake was completely still, the trees, and craggy rock faces that lined it mirrored in the water, a perfect, undisturbed reflection. 

“I know right? Worth the trek don’t you think?” Harry asked, the tiniest fragment of doubt creeping in.

Louis stood on his tip-toes and planted a kiss to the end of Harry’s nose before stepping back and quirking his brow, “Depends love, what’ve you got planned?”

Months ago that would’ve thrown him, but now he knew Louis well enough to know he was teasing, and pulling him back towards him, he placed his hands in Louis’ jean pockets and squeezed, earning himself a surprised shriek. And as he walked them towards one of the little boats, Harry wobbled his way aboard, and picked up the oars, gave Louis a teasing look of his own and beckoned him on.

“Well, _that_ would be telling, wouldn’t it Lou?”

… 

“Come on H, you can do it, not much further now!” Louis half-shouted, half-laughed as he reclined back in his seat, wrapped in a blanket Harry had given him when they’d set off.

As he looked at Harry, warmth and a sense of stability unfurled in the midst of the chaos of it all. He’d offered to help, had offered to take over rowing half-way across, but no. Harry had insisted. So here they were, nearing the island in the centre of the lake, Harry huffing and puffing, curls pulled back long ago into a messy bun, pale blue shirt, dotted with tiny bees, mostly undone exposing his chest and his tattoos each time he started a new stroke, edging them closer and closer. And Louis was captivated by it. By Harry.

With his back to the island, no real idea of how far they had left to go, Harry gave him a shaky smile and asked exhaustion clear, “How much further Lou? We must be close now?”

It was the least he could do really. Louis stood, wobbling and rocking the tiny boat before crouching down in front of Harry, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his jacket and planted a chaste kiss to his lips before wobbling his way to sit back down.

“Nearly there love, just a few more strokes left to go and we’ll be done.”

A couple more strokes and they _were_ done, Louis true to his word. They hopped out of the boat and on to the bank, tying it up against a rickety wooden mooring. They stood for a moment, both out of breath, although Louis had no real right to be, and took in the sight in front of them.  

Louis held Harry’s hand and pulled him towards him, their sides pressed together, and resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, he spoke quietly, “It was worth the trek love...so worth it.”

Harry for his part simply turned and looked at him with a softness Louis wasn’t sure what to do with and replied, “I’m glad Lou,” before taking his hand and leading him in to the island.

He’d lost track of time really, but no one else around and confused by that, Louis chanced a look at his phone, it was four in the afternoon, and he guessed it was too cold and getting too late in the day for other people to have made the trip. And he was glad. The island was magical, and it felt all the more so for being the only two souls to have braved it.

They skirted their way around the edge of the island for a while, not straying far from the water’s edge. As Harry lead the way, hands clasped together, Louis thought, as he watched him walk with purpose, that it was a good thing that at least one of them knew where they were going. A few minutes more and they headed deeper into the island with large trees surrounding them coming into leaf. They made their way up a craggy rock face, taking it slowly with their bags and blankets, before coming to an opening in the vegetation. And without knowing what Harry had planned for them, Louis knew it as soon as he saw it. It was beautiful.

……

“Harry it’s _gorgeous_ …” and as his voice trailed off, Harry could hear the wonder in it.

He turned to Louis, and sure enough, he looked in awe, mouth hanging open, blinking hard. Harry thought back to the slog through the park, and the way his arms had ached as he’d stubbornly rowed them across the lake. It was all worth it. All worth it to see the look on Louis’ face.

“It’s pretty isn’t it Lou?” With Louis just nodding, he smiled and carried on, “It’s called the Temple Romantique, the Temple of Love.” And he could feel himself blushing. He hadn’t really thought it through. The implication of taking them somewhere, with what he was pretty sure they felt for each other still unspoken, so integral to it. He shuffled from foot to foot, wondering what to do next when he felt Louis’ hand slide into his own, tangling their fingers together and squeezing with a reassurance he badly needed.

“Come on love, how about you show me what’s in that bag of yours you’ve been lugging around eh?” Louis asked, providing him with a distraction he was grateful for.

They walked up to the temple hand in hand, the domed roof supported by a dozen stone pillars. As they spread out their blanket inside the temple itself, Harry caught Louis’ eye, wondering as he looked at him, how many other couples had done the exact same thing, and how their lives, their stories, had panned out. As he day-dreamed of their own story he unpacked his rucksack, placing the contents, item by item, out on the blanket. 

“Where did you get all of this from H? Champagne, fancy bread and cheese, macarons. I don’t know whether to be impressed or slightly worried by your sneaky ways?” Louis asked, leaning back against Harry’s chest where he’d settled against one of the pillars.

Placing a kiss to the soft skin behind Louis’ ear, Harry smiled, “Well, I guess you can be impressed by my sneaky ways mainly, and it helps that you’re a really, really heavy sleeper. Snuck out this morning before I rudely woke you up.”

Louis turned and kissed him slow and steady, tracing Harry’s lips with his tongue, asking for permission. And as his lips parted, Louis pressed forward with an intensity Harry could only accept and let wash over him. He shuddered as Louis shifted to straddle him, somehow managing not to break the kiss. All he could hear was the water breaking on the bank next to them, the leaves rustling in the trees all around them, and the soft noises Louis was teasing out of him. As they broke apart to catch their breath Louis cupped Harry’s head in his hands and just smiled at him, soft and oddly innocent.

“So, you’re a sneaky romantic then love? I _like_ it. I _like it_ a lot.”

… 

Warm from the champagne, the touch and taste of each other, and the blankets wrapped around them, they sat in silence, mesmerised by the sight of the sun setting over the lake, framed by the pillars of the temple. Any other time one of them would have had to take a photo, it was truly stunning. But not this time. The moment in the temple, watching the sun set, wrapped up in each other would be an image that would live long in the memory, photo or no photo.

…...

“Fucking hell, _Harry…._ ” Louis gasped, head crashing back against the tiled wall.

“Lou, need to taste you, can I?” and Harry all but begged from his position on the floor, water crashing down on him, hair plastered to his back, eyelashes clumping as he looked up at Louis, hands shaking as they circled Louis’ cock, verging on desperation.

And Louis wasn’t sure how it had happened, they’d got a taxi most of the way back from the park, tired and woozy from the champagne and long day. They’d staggered into the shower, agreeing that they needed to freshen up before going out for dinner, or heading to bed depending on how they felt. But as soon as the water had turned warm and the air around them had started to hang heavy, the mood had shifted. Harry licking and sucking his way up Louis’ neck, shifting to press his thigh between Louis legs, grinding against him. Louis shuddering and shaking from the very first press of Harry’s palm to the base of his cock, from the very first trace of a fingertip at his hole.

“Yes, yes, please,” Louis finally gasped out in reply, looking down at Harry, bracing himself for the first overwhelming feeling of Harry’s mouth on him.

But still, when it came he wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t sure if it was the champagne, or being in Paris, or if Harry would always do this to him. Irrespective, his body convulsed and jerked as Harry licked the length of him before taking him down in one deep drag of his lips. Torn between wanting to lose himself in the feeling, and keeping his eyes open and watch every stunning move Harry made, Louis alternated between crashing his head back and closing his eyes, trembling and letting the feeling of Harry’s hot, wet mouth overtake him, and prizing his eyes open and looking down at the wonder of a man on his knees in front of him, sucking and licking and taking him down with an energy and desire that was intoxicating.

Harry chose one of the fleeting moments that Louis was holding it together and looking at him to raise his head, making eye contact and holding it, pupils blown, cheeks hollowed, he reached between Louis’ legs and pressed at his hole.

“Fuccccckk, Harry, I’m close, going to…” Louis groaned as Harry carried on sucking, massaging his hole and looking straight at him, boring into him.

And then he was gone.

Louis’ cock hard, red and angry, bobbing between them as Harry sat back on his haunches catching his breath.

Before he knew what was happening, Harry took hold of his hips, and growled out “Turn around Lou.” Frantically nodding, Louis let Harry manhandle him to face the tiled shower wall and part his legs, legs that nearly gave way the second he felt the tip of Harry’s tongue press at his rim, circling and gently pressing.

“Fuck me, Harry, going to, going to…” and Louis could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he gasped the words into the wall, face pressed flush against it.

And that was it, the feel of Harry’s tongue probing against his hole, and his hand stroking fast at his throbbing cock had Louis crashing over the edge, caught in a silent scream, body jerking back and forth, Harry’s strong arms bracketing him the only thing stopping him from crumpling in a heap on the floor. As he looked down at Harry’s hand around his cock he finally gave in, orgasm wracking his body, streak after streak of come painting the tiled wall, cooling water washing it away.

…….

As Harry woke up, he stretched his arms above his head grasping on to the headboard for purchase, stretching his legs all the way down to the tips of his toes. It was part of his normal morning routine, and he was pretty sure he’d been a cat in a previous life, probably why he got on so well with Princess Noodle. But this time. This time when he went to stretch his legs out something felt different, heavy. Still half asleep, he rubbed at his eyes and looked down to find a Louis-shaped lump under the sheets.

He lifted the sheet up from under his chin and looked down, only to find Louis looking up at him, dopey smile on his face. Still looking up at him, Louis placed a gentle kiss to each of his ankle bones, nibbling his way up his calves, massaging each one in turn, moving on to his thighs sucking bruises into them that caused Harry to whimper and reach down to tangle his hands in Louis’ hair.

Tracing one hand under Louis jaw, and lifting his head to look at him again, Harry smiled and spoke for the first time, “Come up here Lou.”

He heard Louis let out a little grumble against his thigh before he crawled his way up Harry’s body to come to rest in the crook of his arm, head resting on his chest.

“Happy Birthday love,” Louis kitten-licked his way up Harry’s neck as he spoke, coming to rest in a lingering kiss, tracing his tongue across Harry’s lips, which turned into a huge grin, effectively putting a halt to Louis’ attempts to deepen it.

Louis huffed dramatically then, and crossed his arms, trying to look stern, “Was going to give you a Birthday blow job, but _someone’s_ more interested in laughing at my attempts at sneaky romance are they?”

Harry just pulled Louis into a hug, his arms still crossed between them and laughed a deep belly laugh, “Well _Louis,_ blow jobs are many things, but romantic? _And_ it’s my birthday, so you have to do what I say. And I say we need to stay in bed and cuddle.”

He could feel Louis wriggling to get free, and taking pity on him he loosened his grip. As Louis came up to face him, he tapped Harry on the end of the nose and said, “Well, you can stay in bed, but I have surprises to organise. Close your eyes and I’ll be back in a sec.”

He sat in the middle of the bed cross-legged, sheets pooling at his hips. As he watched Louis pad across the room, perky bum shown off in tight white briefs, he wondered if he could get away with watching what Louis was up to.

No such luck. Without even turning around, or breaking his stride, Louis shouted “I said close them,” over his shoulder, leaving no doubt in Harry’s mind that he was serious about the surprise element of whatever he was planning.

Eyes closed, he could hear Louis rustling in what sounded like paper bags, heard him shout ‘keep them closed’ from a distance, and felt the bed dip once or twice. Finally, he heard what he thought was a match being struck and a few moments later heard Louis’ voice, much closer this time.

“You can open them now.”

He opened his eyes to find Louis sat on the bed facing him, his legs crossed in a mirror image of Harry’s own, a pile of wrapped presents to one side of him. And in the space between them was huge slice of cheesecake with as many candles as would fit on it, flickering, covering the entire surface.

Before he knew why, or really what was happening, he felt tears gather, his bottom lip start to tremble, and the tears start to fall. Louis, quickly moving the cake to one side, climbed into his lap and swiped them away with his fingertips, kissing his lips as he spoke, “Hey, love, what’s up, that wasn’t the reaction I was going for?”

Harry was laughing, emotions all over the place, covering his face with his hands, he carried on laughing, odd hiccup of tears mixed in for good measure. “I’m sorry, it’s lovely, I’m just, it’s just, you’re just,” taking a deep breath, he looked up and at Louis as he spoke again, “I just never imagined this would be happening on my birthday. All those months ago. And it just catches up with me sometimes.”

He shrugged, and Louis, still in his lap, wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head, speaking loud and clear to make sure he heard him, “You deserve it Harry, so much.”

Presents all around them and the cake, candles still lit, cast off to one side, Harry smiled and motioned to the cake, “Thank you Lou, I really didn’t expect it.”

As Louis climbed off his lap and grabbed the pile of presents, he spoke, voice earnest, “Well Harry, you better get used to it, you deserve it and I plan to show you any which way I can, and not just on birthday’s ok?”

Harry just nodded, something powerful unfurling deep inside him, a feeling of security, of being an equal part of something incredible. Louis chose that moment to pass him the first of his presents.

“This one’s from me, I hope you like it, I remember the very first time you came to the store you said about being a bit ‘odd’ and not being able to find things you liked, so yeah, I hope you like it.” and handing the present over, “And you’re not odd by the way, you’re incredible, just saying.”

Harry held it in both hands and gave Louis a watery smile, working hard to keep it together. The present was wrapped in brown paper, a thick red satin ribbon tied around it, finished in a lavish bow. Untying the bow carefully, had tore into the paper, and unwrapped the layer of tissue paper underneath. He was blown away before he’d even got a proper look at it.

“Hold it up,” Louis gently coaxed, likely sensing that Harry was struggling with it all.

And it was gorgeous, Harry could see the love, care, and attention to detail Louis had poured into every stitch. He could picture Louis sketching the design for it, chewing at the end of his pencil as he concentrated on making sure it turned out just right.

Holding the blouse up to himself he looked across at Louis who was smiling softly at him.

“Why don’t you try it on love? See if it fits.”

He stood and undid the small pearl buttons carefully. The fabric was a semi-sheer cream satin, it felt like liquid to his touch. As he eased it on he already loved it, could tell it would fit him. But when he looked at himself in the mirror it was another story.

“Lou, it’s gorgeous, thank you.”

He tried to do the buttons up with shaky hands, and shooting a pleading look in Louis’ direction, he was there in a flash, doing the buttons up with practiced ease.

As they stood in front of the mirror, Harry in the perfect bespoke blouse and nothing else, and Louis in just his briefs, cheeks flushed, Harry was so taken aback by Louis, that much as he loved the present, he loved the wonderful, talented boy standing next to him a whole lot more, and he had to show him. He cupped Louis’ jaw and pressed their lips together, trying to convey the words that were on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out.

“Come on love, there’s more, they’d never forgive me if I forgot to give you their present,” and Louis guided Harry back to the bed and the remaining present.

“They?” Harry asked, confused.

Louis placed the last present in his hands and turned the gift tag over by way of explanation, “Mille and Princess of course, was under strict instructions to remember to take this with me. Millie’s a right bossy one these days.”

This present was wrapped in bright pink paper with little black cats all over it, and Harry had to laugh, wondering how involved Louis had been in choosing it. Pulling it from the paper, his heart just about melted, holding the sturdy silver frame in his hands, Millie’s artistic prowess was unmistakable. There they were, Harry, Louis, Millie and Princess in bold poster paint brushstrokes, all in a line holding hands. He wasn’t sure that was anatomically possible as far as Princess was concerned, but he was far too touched to care.

Louis snuggled up behind Harry, hooking his head over his shoulder to look at it, laughing and rubbing his head against the long hair tumbling over Harry’s shoulders, laughing again as he spoke. “Ahh, I wondered who’d get to be in her masterpiece, she wouldn’t show it to me, just got me to buy the frame. We should be flattered love, she’s a cute one isn’t she.”

“And look,” taking Harry’s hand in his, he guided him to the bottom corner of the picture, “Signed by the both of them.”

Yes, she was a cute one for sure, and Harry’s heart clenched at the sheer domesticity of it all, there in the corner was a scrawled ‘M’ and right next to it a smeared paw print. 

……..

They spent the rest of the afternoon soaking up all that Paris had to offer, picking up vintage clothes and fabrics from a flea market they stumbled across, sitting at the base of the Eiffel Tower people watching, popping in and out of little shops they came across buying gifts they knew their friends and family didn’t expect from them. It was there last day, they wanted to make the most of it.

As day drifted into evening, they shared a carafe of red wine in a street cafe, easing down for the day, or so Harry thought. As he finishing up his wine, Louis jumped to his feet and took hold of Harry’s hand, pulling him up.

“Come on love, can’t go to Paris without getting a view of it at night can we?”

……

“There’s no Eiffel Tower for us H, oh no, we are going up here,” and Louis turned and spread his arms wide in the direction of a, frankly, rather ordinary looking tower block, in fact a skyscraper really, out of place amongst the rest of the city skyline.  

“Erm, ok Lou,” Harry replied, sounding unsure. “Isn’t the Eiffel Tower like _the_ place to go to get views of Paris though?”

Louis stepped towards him them and took his arm, placing it in the crook of his own, walking them towards the rather ugly looking glass building.

“Well love, that’s what they’d have you think, but _I_ know better. Come on, I’ll show you.”

They reached the top of the tower, the 56th floor to be precise, in a lift that only made them feeling marginally queasy. And stepping out on to the viewing platform, the look on Harry’s face told him that he’d made the right decision. Firstly, there was hardly anyone else up there, unlike the hoards of people permanently flocking through the Eiffel Tower, and secondly, the views were absolutely incredible.

Walking around the perimeter, shielded from the wind by glass panels, they found a bench to one side, facing out to the city skyline. He took Harry’s hands in his, and asked, wondering if Harry had noticed, “So love, do you see what the best bit about it is up here?”

As he watched Harry looking around, he saw the moment when it dawned on him.

“Lou, you can see the Eiffel Tower from here. I bet this is the only place in the city you get to see it as part of your view. Everyone else uses it to look at the rest of the city, but we get the chance to look at it as part of Paris.” 

Triumphant, Louis replied, “Yep, she may well be the slightly less aesthetically pleasing sister, but yeah, it’s not the _only_ view of the city with the Eiffel Tower in it, but I reckon it’s the best one.” 

Harry shuffled closer and placed a kiss to Louis lips, before ghosting his cheekbone with his fingertip.

“Thank you for bringing me here Lou, it’s magical, don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

Louis replied as he rummaged around in one of the bags he’d been carrying around all afternoon, “You are so welcome love. And not so fast, one more thing to do before we officially say goodbye to Paris.”

There, just the two of them with Paris lit up all around them, Louis held a cupcake in his hands, one candle lit in the centre. “So, Mille, Princess and a blouse kind of stole my thunder this morning. So let’s try again yeah? Make a wish love.”

There were no tears this time, just a sense of joy and affection for the man sitting in front of him cradling a cupcake. And months ago, even weeks ago, Harry might have wished for white picket fences and an idyllic picture-perfect future. But now, as he blew out that candle, Paris watching on quietly, all he wished for was _Louis_. Louis in any shape or form. Picture-perfect or poster paint.

…...


	15. Chapter 15

If Paris had been perfect, then home, home was somewhat lacking to put it mildly. Everything was the same. The flat, work, the daily commute. And Harry realised, as he slumped on the sofa, fiddling with his rings, that home wasn’t an ok flat with Niall for company anymore. No, home was Louis. After days spent wrapped together, bleeding into one, Harry felt it. He felt it hard.

The day had got off to a bad start, he’d woken up feeling light and happy, weak spring-time sunshine streaming through his curtains. He’d wriggling back expecting to feel Louis tucked behind him, to wrap his arms around him, to press giggling kisses into the nape of his neck. But no, muscle memory was playing cruel tricks on him again. Two days back from Paris and Harry still hadn’t managed to shake the feeling. The feeling of wanting to wake up to Louis every day, and the feeling of loss each morning when he woke up alone.

He’d shuffled out of bed, pulling on his boxers as he headed to the bathroom, and a cursory look in the mirror told him what he already knew, that in the days back in London his sleep had been disturbed to say the least.

That was how he found himself on the sofa, wrapped in Niall’s ratty dressing gown that had been lying on the bathroom floor, trying to wake up to morning TV blaring, forcing down home-made muesli that tasted particularly dust-like.

“Bloody hell Harry, you seen the time? You’re going to be late at this rate.” Niall said as he took a seat next to him, giving Harry a cautious sideways glance that was probably not as subtle as he’d intended.

With Harry just shovelling in another spoonful of muesli and pulling a face, Niall carried on shuffling closer and threw an arm around his shoulder. He spoke more gently this time, with a hint of concern that Harry picked up on loud and clear, “You ok mate? Not like you to be like this, so quiet. You can tell me you know? Whatever it is.”

Niall squeezed his shoulder and settled back into the sofa, obviously content to wait until Harry felt like speaking.

Harry discarded his cereal bowl and took a sip of tea before running a hand across his face shakily, pulling the dressing gown more tightly around him, giving Niall an uncertain look and slumping back into the sofa to join him.

“I just miss him Niall.” he spoke quietly, a sad tinge to every word.

“I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I just miss him a lot, that’s all.”

Niall, forever the practical one, just shook his head fondly and squeezed Harry’s hand. “Well that’s easy, go and surprise him at work, or after work, or at lunch. The world’s your lobster mate. No need to mope around here is there?”

And before Harry had a chance to reply, Niall was up off the sofa and offering Harry his hand, “Come on mate, get dressed, get to work, and then go and see your boy.

“And give me my bleedin’ dressing gown back will you!”

Harry didn’t want to burden him. Niall was only trying to help. It wasn’t that easy though, the case he was working on, his first one, was due in court in days and he had so much to do. The idea of taking a lunch break was a luxury he knew was out of his reach. And if the last couple of days were anything to go by, he wouldn’t leave the office until 10pm, with barely enough energy to drag himself home and collapse into bed let alone cross town to Louis’.

Instead of voicing any of that though he just smiled weakly, handed Niall back his worn out dressing gown and headed to his room to get dressed, mumbling, “Thanks Niall, that sounds like a good plan.”

…..

“Louis, come on, help me carry these will you, and I’ll get you as many meatballs as you want, ok?”

Zayn’s passions came and went with a regularity that Louis was more than familiar with. His latest was painting, abstract to be precise, saying he found it ‘freeing’ and even trying to get Louis to give it a go. That was how they’d found themselves in Ikea far too early on a weekday morning, both of them with the day off, Zayn peered around the stack of large blank canvases he was struggling with, shooting Louis a pleading look.

“Louis! Please, put your phone away and give me a hand with these.” He almost shouted it, causing the assistant near them to look up from folding sheets to glare at them.

He mouthed a half-hearted ‘sorry’, and in a loud whisper, tried one more time, “Please, come on, and then you can tell me what’s bothering you, there’s clearly something. I’ll get you a hotdog too if I have to.”

Louis slipped his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and took a couple of the canvases without saying a word. He wasn’t sure he was up for one of Zayn’s interrogations, even if his friend’s heart was in the right place. He knew Zayn had noticed, how he’d tried to throw himself into new sketches without much success, how he’d spent a whole evening ‘spring cleaning’ the flat, how he’d lavished even more affection on Princess than usual.

Louis knew himself well, knew very well what was wrong. One look at his lockscreen, of Harry with the Eiffel Tower behind him, shining brighter than a whole city, told him everything he needed to know. He just didn’t know how to solve it. Harry was snowed under at work, and he understood that, he got what it was like to be under pressure, to be working to a deadline. He didn’t want to get in the way, didn’t want to distract him, but boy did he miss him something chronic.

They paid for Zayn’s supplies and wandered to the cafe, quiet save for a couple of people - students most likely - using the free wi-fi and grabbing a cheap breakfast.

“Right Louis, sit down and stay, I’ll be back in a minute,” Zayn all but ordered before stalking off to the counter.

Louis resisted the urge to check his phone, he had it on loud _and_ vibrate, but he was still paranoid about missing Harry’s call or text. He hadn’t heard from him all morning, he wasn’t sure why he was going to now, but still, better safe than sorry.

Zayn came back loaded down with plates and steaming mugs of tea. He was trying to butter Louis up and they both knew it. As he placed his food on the table, Louis steeled himself, and decided it was better to take control of the conversation.

“So, before you skirt around the topic for ages, and try and tease it out of me, I miss him ok? There. And I know it’s stupid. How co-dependent right? But I do, and I don’t know how to stop missing him. Paris was amazing, and I guess I got spoilt, spent so much time with him. And now it’s awful. And I’m being melodramatic. You don’t have to tell me. I know. So just leave it yeah?”

Louis hunched over his food and studiously avoided making eye contact. It felt so needy to miss Harry so much after only a couple of days, and although he was past the point of trying to hide it, he still didn’t feel like being judged over it.

He had thought, after all the years they’d been friends, that he knew Zayn inside out and back to front, but obviously not if his reply was anything to go by.

“Louis, you know that’s normal right? To miss him. It’s not stupid. Not at all. Maybe a bit dramatic, but that’s you isn’t it?”

Louis just nodded, finally looking Zayn in the eye.

“In fact, and tell me to piss off if I’m wrong. I think the only marginally stupid thing is that you’re clearly in love with him, and you haven't even told him yet. Have you?”

Louis felt himself flush, tips of his ears burning. And Zayn cut him off before he had a chance to reply. To lie and deny it, or confirm that yes he was almost certain he was entirely, overwhelmingly, in love with Harry.

Zayn just smiled at him, the hint of sympathy all but swamped by the smug grin that looked like it was threatening to split his face in half. “Mate, I know, you know. Just tell him for God’s sake, put the both of you out of your misery.”

……..

“Yes ok, yes, I can do that, no problem. By the end of the day? Ok, yes, I’ll email it to you before I leave for the day. Ok, bye for now.”

Harry hung up and slumped back in his swivel chair, it might have been some super-ergonomic thing that Nick had insisted he needed, but after sitting in it solidly for eight hours, and with God knows how many more to come, he was anything but comfortable.

He looked at his emails and sighed heavily, he wasn’t sure how a whole screen-full could have appeared in the time it took to have a phone call. But according to Nick that was ‘normal, and ‘to be expected’ in the run up to a case going to court. It was days like this when he really wasn’t sure if he was cut out for the life of a lawyer. There was so much to do, and so much depended on him doing it well. But then there were other days, days when they successfully represented a client that needed their help. The gratitude, the relief, the difference they made. As long as he had days like those, interspersed between the dog days, then much as it didn’t feel like it sometimes, it was all worth it.

Nick had just come back from lunch, and he’d brought Harry back his favourite - a hot Pret wrap, and a large cappuccino. He ruffled Harry’s hair as he placed the food on his desk, and sat on the corner of it, giving him a knowing look.

“Harry love, I know I said it was normal to be this busy, but you look frazzled. I meant what I said earlier, if you want to knock off a bit early today, I can hold the fort. Go and see Louis or something. It’s obvious you’re missing him, bet he’s missing you too.”

Harry took a bite of his lunch as he thought over Nick’s offer. He wanted more than anything to go and see Louis, but that nagging little voice wouldn’t shut up, going on about professional pride, the fact that this was his case, and that he needed to see it through to a successful outcome all on his own.

With a grateful smile, and a shake of his head Harry turned him down, “It’s ok Nick. We go to court in a few days, I just need to get my head down and get through it. Thanks though, I appreciate it.”

Nick stood and walked back to his own desk, smoothing his jacket as he went, “If you’re sure Harry, but the offer still stands if you change your mind ok? At this rate, I’m going to see Louis before you do. Places to go, people to see, shoes to buy.”

And wasn’t that a sad truth. But they’d survive, they’d made plans. The weekend was only a few days away.

…...

“Millie, Millie Moo! Come and sit down, leave Princess Noodle alone for now, she’s sleeping love.”

It was late in the afternoon and Louis had company. Millie had come in like a tiny whirlwind of colouring pads, crayons, and grabby hands that were determined to love Princess whether she liked it or not.

“But Louis,” Millie pouted, lying on the floor in the living room, trying to reach Princess who had taken refuge under the sideboard. “I just want to cuddle her,” she said lip starting to wobble.

Louis stood from where he had been sitting cross-legged at the coffee table. He pulled up his soft grey shorts, and walked over to Millie, scooped her up off the floor and tickled her, peals of high-pitched laughter ringing through the little flat.

He walked back across the room, Millie upside down in his arms, wriggling and giggling, setting her down gently. He sat down again and patted the space right next to him.

“Come on love, she’ll come out in a bit, just having a little nap. How’s about we do some colouring in?”

He spread the colouring books, plain paper, pens and pencils out in front of them, filling the small glass-topped coffee table. And still Millie pouted.

“What’s wrong Mills? You love colouring.” Louis asked softly.

At that, Millie scooted into his lap and tucked herself into his soft t-shirt, pulling at the fabric to cover her eyes.

Louis was genuinely concerned then, it wasn’t like Millie to stay upset about anything for long. He stroked his hand through her hair, resting it on her little shoulder.

And then, in a tiny voice.

“Where’s Harry? Is he gone?”

And _oh_. That wasn’t good.

Louis shifted to lift Millie and have her look at him. Face serious, he spoke, trying to reassure her. “No love, of course not, he’s busy at work that’s all. He’ll be back soon ok?”

Millie nodded, bottom lip threatening to go again, “I miss him, he’s good at colouring in, and cuddling.”

Well, that made both of them then. His own feelings aside, Louis had a brain-wave, a way to hopefully cheer her up.

He grabbed his phone from the floor and looked at Millie, poking his tongue out and crossing his eyes comically.

She was finally smiling again.

“How about we take a selfie and send it to Harry? That sound good?”

Millie nodded, and stated firmly, “Princess needs to be in it,” before walking off purposefully.

And that was how they found themselves lying on the living room floor, each side of where Princess remained hidden, just her eyes visible in the dark.

“One, two, three, say cheese!” and Louis snapped a quick photo of the three of them, got Millie’s approval and sent it to Harry. He hoped it would make Harry feel as happy as it had made Millie.

“Come on then Louis,” Millie ordered, bouncing from foot to foot, “Let’s do some drawing.”

She settled on plain paper, creating a ‘Millie original’ by the look of it. Watching her, Louis really shouldn’t have been surprised, as the wobbly lines and bold colours formed and took shape into a stick man images of Louis, Harry, Millie, and Princess standing in front of a little square house, four windows and front door slap-bang in the middle. As she concentrated, tip of her tongue between her teeth, she drew smiley faces on all of them, before she held it out for Louis to look at.

“It’s beautiful Mills. Shall I give this to Harry when I see him?” Louis asked.

As Millie nodded and skipped away to check on the status of cuddling with Princess, Louis shoved away the thought that had popped into his head. The thought of a way that he and Harry wouldn’t have to miss each other anymore. It was almost definitely, almost certainly, too early to be thinking about _that_. Blimmin’ Millie and her blimmin’ drawings.

…..

As he stepped out of the bath Harry’s skin prickled, goosebumps breaking out at the mere thought of seeing Louis again. It had been a whole week, a whole seven days since they’d last seen each other, but finally, finally there were only a handful of hours between them. And Harry needed to get ready.

He walked into the bedroom, towel slung low around his hips, and lay down on the freshly-made bed, grabbing his phone as he went, smiling to himself as he sent Louis the latest of endless texts they’d exchanged during the day.

_Think I just poached myself in the bath. Can’t wait to see you! I’m counting down the hours xxx_

To that he attached a selfie flushed and rosy-cheeked from the bath, and another, a close up of his old-fashioned alarm clock.

He placed his phone next to him and closed his eyes for a second while he waited for Louis’ reply. Even with his eyes shut, he could picture Louis, crinkly eyes, smiling as he opened the photos, shaking his head in mock exasperation. It was all so clear in his mind.

His phone buzzed, and opening it, he laughed in delight. Louis had attached a photo of his own, a screenshot of the stopwatch app with a caption.

_Never mind_ _hours, I’m counting down the seconds._

And then another.

_Don’t get dressed. L xxx_

Well, that was a change of plan. There were still two hours until Louis was due and he’d set that time aside to get ready. But never one to disobey orders, especially not from Louis, Harry debated what to do next.

He walked over to his wardrobe and looked inside, deciding that not getting dressed was up for interpretation. As he traced his fingers over the silky cream fabric, feeling it slip and slide, he had an idea. A great idea, if he did say so himself.

He spent longer than usual drying his hair, styling it into loose waves that draped over his shoulders. And then he squirted out a generous amount of his favourite moisturiser, starting at his neck he massaged himself all over, working the lotion into his arms, his chest, the swell of his arse, before sitting on the bed and smoothing it all over his legs, working it in to make sure it was all absorbed.

The clock caught his eye, and seeing he was down to less than an hour, he put the finishing touches to his hair, which had dried into almost ringlets, before adding what he hoped would be the perfect accessory. With his skin only carrying the traces of the lavender-scented lotion, he slipped the sheer fabric over his shoulders, leaving all the buttons undone. Finally, he picked up the little red nail polish bottle from his bedside table and went to add in the finishing touches in the lounge, hoping Niall wouldn’t walk in on him, not because of the nails, but because of the distinct lack of clothing.

…….

Wow had the afternoon dragged, and Louis was pretty sure it wasn’t _actually_ their fault, but every customer had seemed especially slow, especially demanding, and overall, annoying. But finally, he was walking up the stairs to Harry’s flat. And he felt nervous. The anticipation of seeing Harry again after a week of his absence was palpable.

He’d got changed after work, had a shower in the changing room, had wanted to look nice for Harry. Looking at himself in the reflection in the windows that lined the side of the staircase, he thought he did. He’d left his hair soft, drying naturally, and he’d put his glasses on, both of which he knew Harry was fond of. He’d paired that with a thin baby blue cashmere jumper and a dark blue pair of skinny jeans. He felt soft, exposed, and he wanted Harry to know, to be able to see that he was open and vulnerable for him.

He knocked on the door, and it moved, opening of its own accord. Stepping inside, he called out, unsure of what to do.

“Harry, can I come in?” 

Harry’s reply came in a beat, “Hi Lou, close the door behind you, I’m in the bedroom.”

Ok. Suddenly his last text, and the instruction in it came flooding back. _Oh._

He toed off his shoes, and walked the few steps to Harry’s bedroom, not quite sure what to expect. He hadn’t really expected Harry to take him at his word.

And, _wow_ , whatever he’d been expecting. It didn’t come close.

There he was. His boy. Bathed in shards of sunlight that streamed through the open window, reclining on the bed, naked save for the cream satin blouse Louis had made him for his birthday. And he didn’t know whether to hug him or ravish him - tied in a perfect bow around his head like an Alice band, curls hanging loosely like a halo, was the red satin ribbon Louis had used to wrap the present up with.

He was perfect, more beautiful and more precious than any present Louis could imagine.

Harry smiled so hard his dimples popped and beckoned him over, “Lou, I’ve missed you so much, come here, kiss me. _Please._ ”

So he did.

He climbed on the bed, almost frantic, straddling Harry, and crashing their lips together, sliding his tongue along the seam of Harry’s lips, asking permission. And Harry granted it, parting his lips on a breathy moan, letting Louis slide his tongue inside, feeling the warm, wet heat that was all Harry.

Now he was here, on Harry’s bed, in Harry’s arms, he didn’t know how he’d coped without it. He shifted and felt Harry’s cock, naked and bare, press against his inner thigh, kissing him more deeply still, dragging soft sounds out of him, Louis rocked gently, giving Harry the beginnings of the release he was sure he was desperate for. The sounds spilling out of Harry’s mouth were too much for him, he needed to touch, needed to taste.

Louis shuddered and tore himself away from Harry’s plush, kiss-reddened lips. “God _Harry_ , need to taste you so badly, please?” He could hear it in his voice, he was begging.

Harry trembled in reply, before reaching up to stroke at Louis’ cheekbone, so gently at the soft hollow below his left eye, “Need to taste you too Lou.”

……

It was just like their first time all over again, and he wasn’t sure he could cope with the feelings it was dragging to the surface. He _was_ sure that sixty-nining wasn’t supposed to be romantic, but with Louis it was.

Louis guided him onto his side, mouths still locked together, wrenching noises Harry didn’t know he was capable of out of him. They broke apart, Louis’ mouth glistening with spit. Then he moved, slowly working his way down Harry’s body, lavishing attention on every inch of him.

If you could come home in the touch of a fingertip, or the lave of a tongue, Harry felt it, soaked it up, never wanted it to end. He hoped Louis could feel it too, in the way Harry’s body responded to him, to every brush of skin on skin, every nip of his teeth, every buck of his hips.

Too caught up in his own thoughts, Harry gasped as Louis licked at the head of his cock, his hips snapping forward of their own accord to thrust deep into Louis’ mouth. Stuttering out a “sorry,” Harry shuddered as Louis took him all the way down, overwhelmed at the sensation of his cock brushing the back of Louis’ throat.

“Fuck _Louis_ , so good, _too_ good. I need, I want....” Harry trailed off, gripping the sheets as Louis took him down again, before he pulled off to swirl his tongue around the tip of Harry’s cock.

“Please, Lou,” Harry moaned, reaching down to touch any part of Louis he could find.

Louis shifted, never stopping the attention he was lavishing on Harry’s painfully hard cock. Finally Harry could touch him, sink his own lips around Louis’ cock which was rock hard, precome glistening at the tip, just waiting for him.

As he sank around Louis, savouring every inch of him, Harry breathed hard, already close from all the emotion coursing through his veins. He could feel heat building at the base of his spine, and it built with every taste of Louis, with every touch of Louis.

“Oh fuck, Harry, you taste so good, you feel so…” Louis’ words dissolved into a long breathy moan, still not pausing from sucking at Harry’s cock, somehow able to focus through it.

Harry picked up his pace, aware that he wasn’t going to last much longer, wanting to make sure Louis felt just as good as he did. He bobbed his head, and hollowed his cheeks, slipping a finger in his mouth alongside Louis cock. Finger slick, he reached around and slid it between Louis’ arse cheeks. He placed a feather light touch to Louis’ hole, and that was almost enough. Louis lost his rhythm, bucking into Harry’s mouth, cock hitting the back of his throat.

Any semblance of finesse gone, they were frantic, Harry sucking sloppily, Louis gasping and writhing.

Harry jolted as Louis’ finger took a turn to explore his hole. He tried to breath through it, to delay the inevitable, but it was too much, too many sensations, too many emotions. He froze, every muscle in his body seizing up before finally releasing all in one go. With a long loud groan he came, bucking his hips and pulsing down Louis’ throat, Louis’ hand grasping onto his arse cheeks, holding him still, pulling him in as deep as he could go.

“Fuck Lou, that was, that was...” but Louis held onto to him by the hips, and fingered at his hole as Harry came down wrenching a last shuddering moan out of him. And that was it for Louis, Harry felt his whole body shake as he twitched and thrust forward, jerking and jolting. Caught up in the moment, Harry pulled off and watched as Louis came, spurting all over his face, all over his chest, lapping it up, basking in it.

…….

It was hours later, the sun long gone, and they were nestled in bed, both showered clean and naked, save for the red satin ribbon that was tied in a bow around Louis’ neck.

Louis placed the bowl of pasta they’d somehow found the energy to make and share, on the bedside table and turned to face Harry, who’d pulled his hair up into a loose bun.  

He rested his head back into the soft downy pillows and smiled, feeling unexpectedly shy. He wasn’t sure why, it really wasn’t his style, but really he should have known by now that Harry got to him in unexpected ways. Harry was just watching him with sleepy, hooded eyes, looking more beautiful than anyone had any real right to.

They didn’t speak for a while, content to just settle in each other's company, sharing gentle touches, Harry running his fingers up and down Louis’ side, Louis soothing circles on the palm of Harry’s hand.

It was Louis that spoke first in the end, shy still, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I missed you. Just a little bit. Well a lot really, I’m not very good at missing you. I’ve been driving Zayn mad.”

Harry just carried on stroking circles to Louis’ palm, and lent forward to place a kiss to the hollow of his chest, just below the little red bow, before replying, “That makes two of us then Lou. I’ve missed you a lot, like _a lot,_ a lot. I’m not very good at it either.”

As they settled in bed, face to face, drifting off to sleep, hands clasped between them, Louis decided, that much as it had hurt, if he had to go through the pain of missing anyone, he was glad it was Harry.

And if they clung to each other a little tighter than normal during the night, well that was no one’s business but their own.

…..

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

February made way for March, and with it came a lightness. Morning’s were brighter earlier, evenings were lighter for longer, green shoots and daffodils dotted every public park in London. And with it, came an unexpected pleasure.

“How many eggs do you want love?”

Harry stirred, warm and content. He stretched his arms above his head, took hold of Louis’ headboard and arched his back, blinking his eyes open and smiling at another day waking up in Louis’ bed.

“Two please Lou,” he called back, voice scratchy as he reached down and stroked Princess - who was curled up at his side - earning a surprised, sleepy, chirrup and a nuzzle to his hand.

“Come on missus, let’s go and see what we’ve got for breakfast shall we?” he asked, shifting and scooping Princess up in his arms as he stood, before carrying her like a baby towards the kitchen.

Zayn had gone away with work for a week to Ireland. Harry wasn’t one hundred percent clear on the details, all he knew was that it meant that Louis had to stay at home to look after Princess, which had the knock-on benefit of him staying at Louis’ for the week. It was closer to work too, which with the long days he was working, and the court sitting on Monday, well, it worked all around.

He shuffled into the kitchen in just his boxers, placed a soft kiss to Louis’ lips and placed a squirming Princess down on the kitchen work surface.

“Oi, I’m cooking here, sterile environment and all,” Louis swatted at Harry’s bare chest as he spoke, but there was no weight to his touch or his words.

Harry nestled into Louis’ space and wrapped his arms around him, enveloping him in warmth that radiated off of him. He placed a tender kiss to Louis' temple before whispering in his ear, “Like you care Lou, she’s your shadow, you let her get away with anything.”

At that Louis huffed and turned in Harry’s arms, cracked two eggs into the frying pan and muttered, “Well then Harold, if you’re so smart so early in the morning, make us a tea and give Princess her breakfast won’t you?”

Harry chuckled fondly and pressed a kiss into the nape of Louis neck, before taking a step back.

“Right then, let’s see shall we, what’ll it be today,” he opened her cupboard as he spoke, Princess now plastered to his side, “Hmm, what do you fancy then sweetpea? Biscuits, biscuits, or biscuits?”

With the decision made that today felt like a biscuits kind of day, the little family of three - for a week in any case - sat down for breakfast, with at least two of them hoping - although too scared to say it out loud - that maybe, somehow, this could become a permanent fixture.

…….

“What you looking at Lou?” Harry asked, stripping off his heavy wool coat and slipping his sunglasses on.

“Just people love.” Louis replied as he settled next to him on the wooden bench and handed Harry the tea he’d got for him.

Louis had lived in London for years, but still, it was beautiful in the springtime. That was how they’d found themselves wandering through Hyde Park in the late afternoon, and he loved people watching. He supposed it was the frustrated designer in him, but really, people were fascinating. Especially in a city like London, there was so much to see, and thankfully no such thing as ‘normal’.

Some people obviously thought it was already summer, the first glimpse of sunshine and the shorts and flip flops had come out. Others clearly thought it was still the middle of winter, wrapped up in coats, scarves and gloves, only the merest sliver of skin on display. He found it strangely endearing, inspiring, how different everyone was even in such a comparatively small city.

He took a sip of his tea and realised that while he’d been deep in thought, Harry had been completely silent, save for the sound of his breath cooling his own tea down. Looking at him now, he seemed distracted, checking his phone, fiddling with his rings, looking back over his shoulder.

“You ok love?” Louis asked, placing his hand around Harry’s free one to still him.

Harry let out a big sigh and shook his head as he spoke, “Yeah I’m fine. Just annoyed that I can’t relax. Can’t stop thinking about the case. What if I let them down? What if I haven’t put a strong enough case together? I don’t know…” He trailed off then, Louis still clasping his hand.

Louis didn’t think he was one of life’s great motivational speakers, but he cared a lot, believed in Harry, and hoped it would come across in what he had to say.

“Harry, listen to me yeah? It’s normal to be nervous, and I’m not going to say that it’s not a big deal, because it is. But I’ve seen you, you’ve worked all hours on this. And you care, you care a lot. I can see it. I see it in the hours you work, in the frown line I try to smooth away, and in the way you talk about this case.

“So yeah, I have faith in you, absolute faith. I can’t make you not worry, but you deserve a break. Enjoy it, yeah?”

Harry smiled a wobbly smile, eyes shimmering and opened his arms for Louis to slot into. More than happy to oblige, Louis shuffled closer, pulling Harry’s coat around both of them, cocooning them from the wind that had picked up.

“People watching then Lou?” Harry spoke with a teasing edge to his voice, much lighter than it had been before.

Louis just nodded and spoke into Harry’s coat, “No judgement though, it takes all sorts, and it’s interesting, don’t you think?”

He was taken by surprise by the depth of what Harry said next, “That’s one of the things I noticed first about you Lou, for someone in the fashion industry, you’re one of the least judgemental people I think I’ve ever met.”

Louis just lay his head on Harry’s chest and listened, emotion blooming.

“I always felt like I was a bit odd, and I know you know that now. But the very first time we met, and ever since, you just make me feel comfortable in my own skin. Like I can be myself, however silly that might be, and I know you’ll never judge me for it.”

Harry went quiet then, brushing his lips to the top of Louis head, kissing his hair gently.

After letting the words sink in, Louis swallowed down the lump in his throat, swallowed down the words that were clawing to get out and whispered, still loud enough for Harry to hear, “Silly is wonderful Harry. And it looks incredible on you.”

…….

Harry paced the length of their small office, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He was pretty sure he was wearing a groove in the carpet but he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t contain the nervous energy that had been steadily building all morning.

“Come on, you ready? We’re going to be late at this rate!” he called to Nick on the other side of the office, hopefully finishing up the call he was on.

He’d had a restless night’s sleep, even Louis’ presence not enough to calm him. He’d laid awake for a big chunk of the night, playing over all sorts of scenarios in his head of how day one in court might go - some good, some bad, all of them making him anxious. In the end he’d dragged himself out of bed an hour earlier than usual, made them both breakfast, had a long, hot shower, and sorted out breakfast for Princess. The normality of it, the domesticity of it was the only thing capable of taking the edge off his nerves.

As he waited for Nick his phone buzzed several times in his pocket, he’d already had texts from his mum, Gemma and Louis wishing him luck. He checked, and laughed, it was Louis again.

_Break a leg! Xx_

And then.

_I know you’re not on ‘stage’ but still, seemed appropriate. You’ll be wonderful xxx_

And finally.

_Seriously, you care and that is really rare. I’m so proud of you. L xx_

“Come on then Harry, we’re going to be late at this rate!” Nick had the audacity to laugh, and poke him in the ribs as he spoke, striding purposefully towards the door leaving Harry dumb-founded and torn between replying to Louis and giving Nick a piece of his mind.  

Instead he just hurried after him, only sparing his desk a second glance to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind before closing the door to the office behind him, hoping and praying that the day would go well.

….

“Lou Lou, just go now, it’s nearly twelve, we can cover here.” Sophia took hold of his shoulders and tried to physically manoeuvre him out of the department, deceptively strong for her slight frame.

Louis held his own and wriggled out of her grasp. He smoothed down his black shirt, and walked to comparative safety behind the cash register before he dared to speak again.

“Jeez Soph, I was only asking if you and Liam were officially dating now. I’m going to take that reaction as a ‘yes’ I reckon?”

Sophia, biting her perfect polished red nails, a sure sign that she was not comfortable with the conversation, fixed Louis with a pointed stare. She held it for a beat or two before she finally relented, “Fine, yes we are, have been for a few weeks actually. Thought you might have twigged before now actually, but you’ve been a bit _distracted_.”

And he supposed that was one word for it, Paris with Harry, back from Paris and missing Harry, Zayn away and living with Harry. Distracted was a pretty generous description in all honesty.

“Soph, I know I’ve not been the best of friend lately, but you know you can talk to me don’t you? And it’s meant to be a _good_ thing, new relationships are exciting aren’t they?” Louis asked, voice soft and hopefully encouraging.

Sophia stepped forward and pulled him into a full body hug, unusually tactile for her. She held him for a few seconds before pushing him back again, wiping her eyes and saying, her voice even more firm than earlier, “Thanks Lou Lou, I know, we’ll go out and have a proper catch up, I’ll tell you all about it. But seriously, don’t you have a boy to go and support?”

…...

Harry wasn’t sure how he could be scared of a building, bricks and mortar, but here he was. He walked up the steps of the Old Bailey, his heart hammering, legs shaking, and fingers tingling.

Nick was on his phone a few steps back, and they were actually early after the panic at the office. Harry took a moment to take it all in. He sat on a stone bench and looked at the Old Bailey emblem. He’d been building up to this day for weeks, years in all honesty, and he knew his client's case inside out and back to front. He was sure that they had a strong case, and that he’d put all the evidence together in a way that meant their barrister could explain it all clearly and convincingly.

But still.

He felt like his whole adult life had been building up to this. And the pressure to do well, to succeed, not for himself but for the lady he was representing, sat heavy on his shoulders. He shook himself, and took his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through to the most recent of Louis’ texts, willing himself to believe it.

_Just believe in yourself. I believe in you. L xx_

……

“Sorry, excuse me, pardon me, sorry, coming through.”

The tube had conspired against him, they’d been held at a red light outside St Paul’s for ten minutes, and it had taken him longer to walk there than he’d allowed for, even inside the building, there had been security checks he hadn’t legislated for.  

Finally though, he shuffled through the people already seated and found an empty chair towards the back of the public gallery.

He knew that as a lawyer, Harry wouldn’t actually stand up and defend his client, he and Nick had found a barrister to do that on their behalf. But still, he wanted to support him, even though Harry probably wouldn’t even realise he was there.

All he knew was that it was a domestic violence case. Harry hadn’t really told him any details and Louis hadn’t asked, it hadn’t seemed appropriate somehow, even though the case was going to open court. What he did know was that the case meant a lot to Harry, that he’d poured hours of energy and commitment into it, and that he wanted to be there for him. He also knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay for the whole day, he was looking after Millie in the afternoon, but he had a couple of hours and he intended to make the best of them.

He was fiddling with his phone, checking for the fourth or fifth time that it was off when he saw people filing into the seating allocated for the jury. After them, what he assumed was the defence team and their client came in, followed by a woman in a long black court gown and short white traditional wig. Finally he saw Harry walking in behind her in a similar gown and wig, hair tied back in a tiny bun at the nape of his neck.

Once they were all seated, a lady, who Louis assumed to be Harry’s client was ushered in out of sight of her alleged attacker, and seated behind a screen. Louis didn’t know much about the legal system but he did know that in domestic violence cases, especially very traumatic ones, victims did not have to face their attackers.

The Judge then filed in and opened proceedings. Louis was mesmerised, mesmerised by Harry’s every action. For the most part he was silent, sitting behind the barrister passing her documents and other pieces of evidence, but from time to time Harry would look back to their client, behind the screen. Louis could only see Harry’s face, and even from a distance he could see the concentration on it, as well as something else, something softer. Compassion. It was flooding out of him in every gesture, in every look he exchanged with his client.

And it should have been a bolt out of the blue, or a penny dropping, or some other dramatic feeling. But no, the feeling was like something settling and setting up home in his heart.

He was in love with Harry, no shred of doubt about it any more. 

And he needed to tell him. 

………

“Come on Millie, we need to go back to yours to get your colouring things and the Play-Doh don’t we?”

They’d already been back and forth between their flats twice, carrying Millie’s snacks and little rucksack she took everywhere. Still, they couldn’t have a play-date without colouring supplies, and with Millie that didn’t involve one or two pens. No, that involved a whole Crayola suitcase, a whole pile of colouring books, and a stack of plain paper in case she decided that the colouring books were just not creative enough for her.

Finally, with everything they needed, they settled at the coffee table and began spreading all of her supplies out in front of them. As usual though, Millie couldn’t settle, not until she’d found Princess and had a cuddle.

Louis let her wander off, content that she knew her way around the flat and wouldn’t get into any trouble.

He'd been doodling for a few minutes before he realised that she was taking a lot longer than usual to come back. Finally though, just as he was starting to get a bit twitchy, Millie came back pouting.

“Lou, where’s Princess, I can’t find her?” she asked, voice trembling.

Pushing himself up off the floor, Louis took her hand and squeezed it before speaking, “Don’t worry Mills, I’ll help you find her, I bet she’s hiding under my bed, you know what she’s like.”

Princess was not under his bed.

She wasn’t under Zayn’s bed.

She wasn’t under the sideboard.

She wasn’t at her food bowl.

She wasn’t snuggled under the blanket on the sofa.

Louis checked everywhere, in cupboards and any nook or cranny he could think of. She’d disappeared.

Louis was panicking.

He could see the worried look on Millie’s face, and forced himself to school his features into something resembling a smile, getting a tin of treats out of the cupboard in the kitchen and rattling it, trying to tempt Princess out of hiding. 

“Princess, come on love, treat time, they’re your favourites.”

Nothing.

Not a sound,

Feeling frantic, he was about to search all the places he had already scoured when there was a knock on the door.

“Who’s that Mills?” he said, forcing a smile as he went to open the door.

He wasn’t sure who he was expecting to see, but it wasn’t Mrs Petherbridge that was for sure. She was their downstairs neighbour, in her eighties he reckoned. They didn’t know each other well, once she’d asked Louis to feed her cat when she went home to see her family earlier in the year, but really, there was no reason he could think of for her to be knocking on their door.

Her voice wavered as she spoke, and her face was etched with lines from more than living a long life, “Louis, I’m so sorry, she just shot past me when I was bringing my shopping in. I tried to catch her but she was too fast.”

His brain still hadn’t caught up to what was going on.

“Louis, she’s outside, in the road, I didn’t want to move her in case I made it worse. I didn’t catch their number plate, they were going too fast. They didn’t stop, I’m so sorry Louis.”

Finally it clicked. Every cell in his body wanted to run away and hide, every ounce of him panicked at the realisation of it. The blood drained out of his body and he felt hot all over, like he needed to sit down for fear of collapsing. All he could hear was the sound of his own pulse pounding. Finally though, a mental strength he didn’t know he had kicked in, and he moved, grabbing his phone, a blanket and her cat carrier from the cupboard by the front door.

He pleaded with Mrs Petherbridge, who just nodded sadly, to sit with Millie, and ran down the stairs barefoot, his heart breaking at the sight he knew was in store.

As he ran out of their building, he could hear her before he could see her. A pitiful broken meow coming from across the road. He sprinted in the direction it was coming from, and crossing the deserted road, he found her. She was lying in the gutter, head resting on the pavement. It was getting dark, but even so he could see that her back legs were a mess of bone and fur matted with blood. But it was the sound more than anything, she sounded broken, her meow catching in her throat, like she was pleading for help.

He sat on the road next to her and gently stroked her head, and it was too much, even in the state she was in, she nuzzled into his hand, closing her eyes in what looked a lot like gratitude.

He couldn’t help it, the tears ran freely as he spoke to her, “Oh Princess, it’s ok love. I’m here, we’re going to get you some help ok?” But really he didn’t even know if he should move her. He was terrified that if he moved her, if she’d broken her back, he’d make it worse. Hands shaking, another broken meow solidified that he didn’t have any choice.

He lifted her as gently as he could, and placed her on the soft blue blanket he’d brought with him that was her favourite. He wrapped her in it, taking care not to move her legs too much, and with a kiss to her forehead placed her in her cat carrier. Everything in him wanted to hold her in his arms, but he didn’t trust himself not to squash her and cause her even more pain

…….

Harry felt like the first day had gone pretty well, and as he changed out of his robe and back into his suit, he couldn’t wait to tell Louis all about it, wanted to share his excitement with him. He thought he’d even pick them up a takeaway and a bottle of wine on the way home to celebrate.

As he pulled out his phone to call and ask Louis what he fancied, he saw missed calls and messages. Louis had known he was in court all day, that he wouldn't be able to speak to him. Confused, he read the most recent text, and his blood ran cold.

_H, it’s Princess, she’s hurt, I’ve taken her to the vets, it’s really bad. Please come when you can. L_

………

It felt like an age, but it probably took Harry less than half and hour to get to the vets, with Louis texting him the address while he was on his way.

He saw Louis straight away, the bright strobe lighting highlighting the redness around his eyes, the worry etched onto his face. And he crumbled as soon as there eyes met.

Louis was in his arms, sobbing, before he’d even had a chance to ask him how she was doing. He clung to Harry, fingers clutching at his back, breath coming out in hiccups and shuddering breaths. Harry didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what was going on, all he knew was that it was obviously bad.

They stayed like that for a long while before Harry dared to ask, really wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Finally, he whispered it out into Louis hair.  

“How’s she doing Lou? What happened?”

He had to physically prise Louis away from him to get him to focus and get the words out, and even then it took two or three shuddering breaths before he could speak.

“I thought I was going to lose her Harry. It was a car. And the bastard didn’t even stop, just left her for dead.”

Harry just hugged him again and Louis slumped into it, “But she’s alive Lou, she’s ok?” Harry asked, needing to be sure.

Louis nodded in his arms and choked it out, “She’s ok, she’s alive, they said if Mrs Petherbridge hadn’t seen her, if I hadn’t got to her so quickly, that she would have died. She’s got a broken pelvis Harry, and a fractured jaw. She’s so broken. And it’s my fault.”

Louis crumbled again at that, and Harry couldn’t do anything except hold him tight and tell him that, no, it wasn’t his fault, and that he had to listen to the vets, that he’d saved her.

……..

They sat with her for an hour or so, and Harry almost couldn’t bear to look. Louis was devastated. He could tell that he was still blaming himself for it and Harry’s heart broke for him.

She was sleeping, purring even, the effects of the painkilling injection they’d given her as soon as they’d arrived. They’d put her on a drip, and they’d cleaned her up a little to try to reduce the risk of infection. And they’d given Louis back the blanket he’d wrapped her in, which Harry could see him clinging to like a lifeline.

It was getting late, and Harry could see that Louis was struggling to keep his eyes open. “Lou, they’re going to wait and do the operation tomorrow. I know you don’t want to leave her, but we should go home so you can get some rest, I know you’ll want to come back tomorrow. Shall I order us a taxi?”

Louis grabbed hold of Harry’s hand as he went to take his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry, I know she’s just a cat, but you get it don’t you? She’s not _just_ a cat to me Harry. She’s been there for me through all the shit of the last couple of years, always there for a cuddle when I needed it, loved me unconditionally, gave me a reason to get out of bed at my worst times. She’s my friend, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”

Harry just nodded and pulled Louis into his arms, squeezed him tight, and spoke between kisses to his temple, “I get it Lou, I get it, and you’re not going to lose her. I spoke to the vet and they said she’s going to be fine. It’ll all take a while to heal after the op. But they said that in a month or two she’ll be as good as new.”

He placed a single, gentle kiss to Louis lips, and a realisation that had been dawning since they first met came into sharp focus.

He was in love with Louis. And it was an all-encompassing love that he needed to share, he needed to tell him. It was the least Louis deserved.

…...

By the time they got home, it was nearly 10pm. Mrs Petherbridge and Millie were long gone, back to their own flats respectively, just a note left in the elderly woman’s wobbly handwriting asking Louis to let her know in the morning how Princess was doing.

They were both exhausted, dark circles showing themselves under Louis’ eyes, and Harry was pretty sure he didn’t look much better.

Louis had insisted on calling the vets before they went to bed, just to see how she was doing. Reassured that in the scheme of things she was ‘lucky’, that she was in the best place, that he had done everything he possibly could have done, and that they would have her back home in one piece in a few days, he slumped onto the bed fully clothed.

Harry sat next to him, and started to unbutton his shirt for him. Louis didn’t even flinch, just let Harry look after him. He carefully undid Louis’ jeans and pulled them off before lifting him up, one arm wrapped around Louis' back, the other under his knees. He gently lowered Louis onto his side of the bed, slid in next to him and pulled the duvet over them both.  

Face to face Harry watched Louis as he settled and opened his eyes, brushing his fingertips through Louis' fringe, he leant forward to place a ghost of a kiss to his cheekbone.

“You ok Lou?” Harry asked, running his hand gently up and down the length of Louis side, hoping that he found it calming.

Louis moved and placed a soft kiss to Harry’s lips, “I’m ok thanks love, now I know she’s going to be ok, I feel like I can breathe again. Sorry if I over-reacted, but she means the world to me.”

And Harry didn’t know if it was the right time, in fact he was almost sure that it wasn’t, but after the day they’d had, he just couldn’t not tell him.

He held Louis’ hands in his, held Louis’ gaze, and asked quietly, “Can I tell you something Lou?”

Louis smiling softly in response, Harry breathed it out, a shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “Lou, I love you. I’ve been falling in love with you quietly ever since I first met you.”

And, despite the day they’d had, Louis beamed at him, tears welling in his eyes. He held Harry’s hands in his as he replied, placing kisses to each of his knuckles in turn. He sounded sure, calm even, like it was the most natural thing in the world, to lay it on the line, to make sure Harry knew what he meant to him too.

“It’s taken me a while love, to let it happen, but I’m in love with you loudly now.”

…...


	17. Chapter 17

Two operations, multiple calls to the insurance company, and a couple of sleepless nights later, Princess was back home. And she was a challenging patient to say the least.

“Come on love, it’s not that bad is it?” Louis spoke softly, trying to tempt her out of the cat carrier she was hiding in, treats in one hand, her favourite catnip mouse in the other.

They’d got back from the vets almost an hour ago, and no amount of gentle persuasion seemed to be helping. They had instructions on the medication she needed, as well as the plastic ‘bucket head’ collar they needed to use to make sure she didn’t try to bite at her stitches. Louis had assumed that she would be happy to be home, he hadn’t legislated for her not even venturing out of the carrier.

He sighed and settled back on his heels, kneeling on the living room floor, before closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath. Even days later, and with Princess safely home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his fault that she was in this position in the first place.

As he waited for her to settle and come out on her own accord, his mind wandered back to the conversation with Zayn the morning after the accident had happened. He’d called early, needing to know where the insurance paperwork was, and to tell him what had happened - much as it had filled him with dread. It had gone just as badly as he’d expected.

“She _what_? Christ Louis, I’ve only been away a couple of days, you know she’s not meant to go outside, we’re way too close to the main road.” Zayn had spoken with a mix of anger and concern in his voice. Not surprising really Louis had supposed.

It was only Louis’ response, including watery tears that had caused a shift in Zayn’s tone, “Zayn. I’m so sorry, I feel awful, you know I’d never do anything to hurt her, it was an accident, she just snuck out, the door was only open for a couple of minutes, she means the world to me…” and he’d trailed off, not able to get the words out, Harry stroking his back from where they had been propped up in bed.

He had heard Zayn sigh at the other end of the phone line, could imagine his friend despairing at what had happened, before he finally spoke again, “I know Lou, and I’m sorry, I know it was an accident.” And after a pause, “Sorry, yeah? I just feel responsible for not being there I guess. I’m going to have to go, we’ve got a meeting like, now. But I’ll email you the insurance stuff. Just look after her for me? And make sure Harry looks after the both of you.”

It was a claw in the side of his thigh, and a hard head butt to his hand that broke him out of the memory. Looking down at his lap, Princess had taken a couple of shaky steps out of her carrier, and was sitting, looking up at him with narrow, dis-trustful eyes. But it was progress, and at this point he’d take anything.

…….

“That was really kind of you Lou, but you know you didn’t have to right? That she wouldn’t have expected it, what with everything else going on.” Harry held Louis’ hand in his as they walked back up to the flat, a carrier bag containing half a packet of ginger biscuits and a tin of tuna in his other hand - gifts from Mrs Petherbridge that they’d been in no position to turn down.

“I know love, but really, if it wasn’t for her, God knows what would have happened. A bunch of flowers and a bit of company for a while was the least I could do.” Louis replied. He squeezed Harry’s hand before rummaging in his pocket for his keys and opening the door to the flat.  

Harry walked in after him, putting the bag down in the kitchen. “Well, she seemed chuffed with the flowers Lou, bless her, she was so relieved to know that Princess was doing ok. And you’re right about liking the company, seemed like she doesn’t get many visitors.”

Louis toed his trainers off and settled on the floor in front of the crate Princess was in, opening the door, and letting her come out and explore a bit while they were there to keep an eye on her. Stroking at the soft fur between her ears, he patted the carpet next to him, beckoning Harry to come and join them.

“She’s got children, but I don’t think they come and visit all that often, reckon she might have secretly adopted us love, sending us home with supplies and all.” He smiled as he spoke, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder as Princess clambered all over them, nuzzling each of their hands in turn, seemingly starting to get over the shock of everything that had happened to her over the last few days.

Between nuzzles, meows, and head butts, Louis shifted to lie on the living room floor, pulling Harry down to join him, resting his head on Harry’s chest before speaking, voice quiet and earnest. “Thank you for staying with me through all of this. Not everyone would, the mess I’ve been in over a cat. Not sure what I would’ve done without of you honestly.”

Harry simply ran his fingers through Louis’ hair, leaving his hand to rest at the nape of Louis’ neck while he spoke, “I love you Lou, and we’re a team, I’m not going anywhere. You know that right?”

He hoped more than anything that Louis knew that he had him, that he had his whole heart.

Although he didn’t reply, the way Louis’ arms came to rest around his waist, and the heavy, steady weight of his head on Harry’s chest reassured him. Yes, it might be fairly early days, and those three little words might still feel like the fragile first bloom of spring, but Louis knew.

 ……..

“Shit mate, you sound like you’ve had a week and a half. Talk about an emotional rollercoaster.”

He’d only meant to pop home quickly after work, to put some washing on and pick up some more clothes. Once Niall had asked how Louis was though, the blush on Harry’s cheeks, and the giddy, “He’s _really_ good,” was all the ammunition Niall had needed to pull Harry down onto the sofa and grill him over the events of the last few days.

“Tell me _all_ about it, and don’t spare any of the details Harry. I haven’t put up with you being a love sick fool for the last few months for you to skim now we’ve got to the really good bit!” Niall demanded. His feet in Harry’s lap, TV switched off, attention focussed, he was clearly in no hurry to let Harry go anywhere.

Put on the spot, he didn’t really know where to start, or more accurately how much detail to go into. Niall was his best friend, but he felt he owed Louis some privacy, if the roles were reversed, he wasn’t sure he would want Louis to fill Zayn in on every minute detail of their relationship. But still, other than the accident, it was all good news, and he felt alight with how happy he was, how happy Louis made him.

Blushing and hiding his face in a pillow he spoke, shy all of a sudden, “Well, I told him that I loved him, and he said it back. Like, straight away.”

With that, Niall grabbed the pillow and threw it across the room, “Fucking finally!! Yes!!” and Harry wasn’t sure which of them was more excited. Niall grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a full body hug, crushing the air out of his lungs.

“Aww mate, I am so happy for you, you bloody well deserve it!” Niall shouted, not letting go of him, squeezing him harder if anything.

“So what next then?” Niall asked far too vicariously excited about Harry’s relationship status than was strictly appropriate, “Like you’ve only just said it, but you’ve been in love with him for months, what does it mean for the two of you now?”

Harry wasn’t sure what he was getting at, and was going to say as much when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Louis apologising and asking him to pick up some cat food on the way back home, complete with a photo of Princess looking especially sorry for herself. And who knew if the use of the word ‘home’ was intentional, but either way, if butterflies became ‘flocks’, then a whole flock of them had just taken flight in Harry’s stomach. One word and that was the state of him, yeah, maybe he could see what Niall was trying to get at.

“Sorry Niall, I’ve got to go, Louis needs me to grab a few bits before I head back.” He untangling himself from Niall’s grip, standing as he spoke.

Niall stood then too, bouncing from foot to foot, “Don’t worry about me mate, you get back to that little dysfunctional family of yours yeah?”

As he helped Harry repack his bag, chuntering on about what a cute ‘family’ the three of them made, Harry managed a quick, jokey, “Anyone would think you were trying to get rid of me Niall!”

And just like that, Niall was serious, pulling Harry to sit down next to him on his bed. “Harry mate, you’ve been waiting for this for years. If you’ve found someone you love and that loves you back, go for it. Jump in with both feet. If that means that sooner or later I need to find a new flatmate, sure I’ll be sad, but I’ll get over it. _And_ if sooner, is like, really soon, I honestly won’t mind.”

Not sure if Niall was a mind-reader, or if they’d just been best friends for far too long, Harry pulled him into a tight hug and thanked his lucky stars that he had such a wonderful human being for a best friend.

……

“Zayn’s back tomorrow love,” Louis murmured it into Harry’s hair as they woke up slowly from the nap they’d had after work, exhausted and lured by the draw of a warm, cosy bed, the sun still settling early.

Harry nestled back further and Louis basked in the heat of him, sure that he never wanted to give it up. He’d got used to this over the past week, having Harry whenever he wanted him. Waking up together, having breakfast together, making lunches for the day together, meeting up to walk back to the flat together, cooking dinner together, falling into bed together, falling asleep together. Together. They were just better together.  

“Did I tell you today that I love you?” Louis asked, smiling as he spoke and causing Harry to turn in his arms to face him.

A smile in his eyes, Harry ghosted a kiss to his lips before pulling back and looking at him so sincerely it was almost too much.

“I’m still not used to it you know, I just feel so lucky to have you Lou, thank you,” he brushed the tip of his nose against Louis’ before resting his head on the pillow and just looking at him.

“You’re making me blush love, looking at me like that,” Louis said.

Harry ran his fingertips down the side of Louis’ face before he replied, “I can’t help it. I can’t believe I got so lucky, that’s all Lou.”

And no, that wouldn’t do, that hint of melancholy, the lilt to his voice that said he still wasn’t sure how it had all happened. There wasn’t any luck about it, Harry deserved this, deserved everything Louis had to offer, no doubt about it.

Louis wriggled forwards, pulling the sheets up around them before taking Harry’s hand in his and placing a soft kiss to each knuckle in turn. He looked straight at Harry, and tried to will him to believe it as he spoke.

“The world’s a stupid place Harry, for not giving you a man that loved you back. You deserve to be loved for all the things you are, all the things that make you you.”

He paused to compose himself and placed a gentle kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose. “But I’m glad, I’m glad that it’s finally seen sense and let us find each other.”

With another kiss to Harry’s lips, which were now turned up in a wide, slightly wobbly smile, he finished in a whisper, “I feel like we’ve earned it.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Harry to say, but after a few seconds, the wide grin shifted to something softer, something more intimate, and after a split-second hesitation where Louis thought he looked slightly uncertain, Harry replied.

“You were worth the wait Lou. Would’ve waited forever for you I think. You’re _it_ for me, you know that don’t you?”

“You’re it for me too love,” and Louis squeezed his hand tighter as he looked at Harry, trying to gauge his reaction, before carrying on, hoping against hope that he wasn’t about to overstep the mark and scare him off, “I want it all with you Harry, a life, a future, everything... If you’ll have me that is?”

Louis wasn’t sure where this surge of bravery had come from, he’d thought, past relationships considered, that when it came to the crunch he might struggle, might wobble when it came to taking the leap. The leap from love, to sharing a life with someone again. But with Harry, it felt deeper, more sturdy, more equal than anything he’d experienced before. So when it had come to the crunch, any doubt he might have been anticipating faded into nothingness in the face of the love he felt for the man lying next to him.

He needn’t have worried about Harry’s reaction, as before he could register what was happening Harry had hauled him on top of him, and was looking up at him with pure adoration, “Of course I’ll have you Lou. I want it all, everything you’re willing to give me.”

Louis shifted on his lap, and felt the definite outline of Harry’s cock pressed against his arse, he groaned and fell forward, the mood of the room shifting from sweet and earnest to heady and full of need.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m still learning about you aren’t I?” Louis ground down, applying pressure that he knew wasn’t quite enough, “Who knew that discussing future plans counted as ‘talking dirty’ eh?”

Harry just bit his lower lip and shuddered underneath him, holding eye contact, rocking up to meet every downward motion of Louis’ hips. And in all honesty, Louis wasn’t really one to talk, thirty seconds and he was rock hard too.

“Lou, you have no idea….” Harry trailed off as Louis palmed at his cock through his thin cotton boxers. “Please, need you now Lou.”

Once they were both naked he leant his full body weight forward, grasping the headboard with both hands, grinding down on to Harry as he kissed him, licking into his mouth and nibbling down the side of his neck, sucking a bruise into the junction of his shoulder that made Harry buck up under him, throwing him forwards.

“Fuck, tell me what you want, what you need…” Louis licked into Harry’s ear, his cock almost painful with how hard it was.

Harry looked wrecked, pupils blown, chest heaving, hair a mess from where he had been thrashing against the pillow, but he managed it, managed to form the words to ask for what he needed, “...please, Lou, want you to ride me, want to fuck you…”

Louis took a deep steadying breath and nodded, murmuring, “Of course, but... _fuck_...I’m not sure how long I’m going to last.”

He stood on wobbly legs and grabbed the lube and condoms from the bedside table, returning to Harry who had slung his arm across his eyes, heavy, leaking cock twitching on his stomach. As he sat on Harry’s lap, he faced away and spoke softly over his shoulder, “Watch me love.”

Back to him, all Louis heard was Harry’s awed voice, “Shit, Lou, you’re so beautiful,” and on a shaky breath, “I’m really _not_ going to last.”

Louis covered his fingers in lube and prepped himself, any semblance of control a mere charade, hands shaking. He was desperate to feel Harry inside him before either of them came. The first finger was easy, the second and third, with a little help from Harry reaching down to massage at his arse cheeks, came, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.

Tearing the packaging open with his teeth, Louis slipped the condom onto Harry’s cock and smothering him with lube, holding his hips down with his spare hand. Finally ready, he sank all the way down in one slow, tortuous motion, the size and girth of Harry’s cock knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Fuck, stay still….” Louis gasped, holding onto Harry’s hips, knuckles white as he tried to settle and get used to the feeling of being so stretched, so full. Harry had fucked him before, but this, in this position, it just emphasised the size of him, made Louis’ skin prickle at the thought of how it would feel when they did eventually give in and start to move.

He rested his hands on Harry’s thighs, and he could feel every muscle taut and trembling with the effort not to thrust up, shifting slightly, the stretch was finally more pleasure less pain and he tapped on Harry’s hip to get his attention.

“You ok? Going to move now, yeah?”

And it was like a dam breaking, they went from frozen and still, to frantic thrusting in the blink of an eye. With every roll of his hips Louis could feel Harry brushing against his prostate, and he really, really wasn’t going to last. “Fuck Harry, that feels, you feel….”

Harry wasn’t doing much better, with every thrust up to meet Louis’ hips he could see him falling progressively further and further apart, gripping the headboard with both hands, biceps flexing and trembling, sweat forming in his hairline and running down his temple.

“Lou, Christ, you’re so tight, fucking hell…” and with the words came a particularly deep thrust, knocking Louis forwards and to the mercy of the erratic rhythm of Harry’s hips. Every thrust nudged him closer and closer to the point of no return, he could feel it coiling tight in the pit of his stomach.

Louis managed to focus enough to take his cock in his hand, shuddering and grasping as he fucked himself over the edge, one, two, three times. They were both of groaning and gasping, a messy combination of each other's names, “Lou, Lou, Lou” falling out of Harry’s lips on every thrust.

“Fuck, I love you Lou,” and that was it, with one final flick of his wrist, Louis felt himself let go, pulsing all over Harry’s chest, clamping around Harry’s cock as he thrust again and again, every muscle in his body trembling and shaking, control lost. And before he could even begin to compose himself, Harry stumbled over the edge after him, back arching off the bed and lifting Louis with him, a howl of pleasure tearing up and out of him as he thrust one last time, filling Louis up and crashing back down on the bed, Louis falling on top of him, face pressed into the side of Harry’s neck, both soaked in sweat.

Finally, a chill shrouding them as they cooled down, Louis rolled off wincing. He slung an arm across Harry’s chest and nestled his head into his side.

“So…we’re kind of loud aren’t we?” Harry asked, smiling up at the ceiling.

And really, it wasn’t a flippant thing, he knew they’d need to discuss it properly later, but in the moment, and after the conversation they’d had, Louis wasn’t scared any more. He was ready to lay it all on the line, confident that Harry would cross it right alongside him. So he went for it.

“Sounds like the perfect excuse to go flat hunting love, don’t you think?”

And as he watched Harry’s smile grow into a full blown, dimpling grin, there was no doubt about it, they were jumping over that line into a future together hand in hand.

………..

“Sounds like cause for celebration then mate!” Niall had all but shouted as Harry filled him in on the conversation he’d had with Louis the day before.

He was home, Zayn had come back from Dublin and understandably wanted a bit of space to himself as he settled back in. Before he’d left, he’d made sure that everything was ok with Zayn and Louis, that no hard feelings lingered from the accident. Once he’d seen Zayn swoop Louis up in a massive hug, and in turn had seen Louis show Zayn the neckerchief he’d made Princess to replace the plastic ‘bucket head’ she’d hated so much, he was confident that they were fine and he could leave them in peace.

He slumped down onto the sofa, and took a long sip of the beer Niall had shoved into his hand the second he’d walked through the door. It was only midday, but Niall was probably right, they probably were due a celebration. Princess was well on the way to being good as new, Louis and Harry were more in love than ever, and he’d also found out that his case had gone in his client's favour. All in all, things were looking up.

“Let’s go clubbing! We haven’t had a big night out for ages!” Niall suggested, or demanded really, as he shoved Harry’s phone at him.

“Text lover boy, see if he wants to come out. Can’t believe I haven’t even met him yet, how rude!” Niall could be seriously obnoxious when he was excited, but Harry supposed it was part of his charm, and he was right really, it was time that Niall and Louis got to meet up, it had been too long.

……

That was how, eight hours, and too many beers later, they found themselves in one of their ‘old favourites’. It was a small club, with an even smaller dance floor, that even early on a Saturday night was heaving with people, waiting for Louis and Zayn to arrive.

“Niall, please promise me you’ll be nice ok? To them both. I love Louis, and Zayn’s a good guy, just a bit prickly to start with. Give them a chance, please.” Harry asked, hopeful and sincere.

Instead of replying to his plea, Niall was waving, and shouting over his shoulder, “Is that them Harry? Otherwise I’m not sure what to make of the hot guy striding this way in too tight jeans trying to catch your eye?”

 And yeah, that was them, Louis beyond gorgeous, and Zayn trailing alongside looking like some sort of God. Harry was halfway through whispering a warning ‘ _Niall_ ’ under his breath, but he needn’t have worried. True Irishman that he was, Niall pulled Louis and Zayn into a group hug, leaving them both wide-eyed, before shouting above the din of the music, “My round then, what are you gentlemen having?”

He dragged Zayn off with him, leaving Louis and Harry alone, sharing a bemused look. Pulling Louis in for a hug of his own, Harry whispered in his ear, “That’s Niall, he’s kind of full on.”

Louis just shuffled closer into his space, looped his arms around Harry’s neck and smiled, “Never would’ve guessed love.” Dragging his hands down Harry’s back, and leaving them to rest in his back pockets, he carried on, smile playing at the corners of his lips, “I’ve got something to tell you, and I think you’re going to like it….”

Niall chose that precise moment to shove his way in between them drinks in hand.

“Alright then, introduction time, I’m Niall, and me and Zayn have already bonded over over-priced beer, so no worries on that front. And you, hmmm, let me see, ‘beautiful cheekbones’, ‘blue eyes you could swim in’, and ‘an arse to die for’, you must be Louis, otherwise known as ‘all Harry bloomin’ well talks about’, lovely to meet you.”

“Niall” Harry all but shouted, burying his head in his hands, “I asked you to be nice,” and he felt Louis hand slide into his and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well love, to be fair, he is being nice to me,” Louis chipped in, taking a sip of the beer Niall had handed to him.

“Yeah Harry, you listen to Louis,” Niall laughed.

“Anyway, I’m only repeating what you’ve told me, you shouldn’t be so soppy if you don’t want it used against you!” with that Niall turned his attention to Zayn who was laughing along from the side lines.

At that Louis pulled Harry into his arms again and whispered in his ear, “Never stop being soppy, I love it, I love you. And an ‘arse to die for’ eh? I should hope so.”

……..

They were wasted, the pair of them, the bass of song after song vibrating through their bodies as they moved on the dance floor. It had started fairly PG, but as the night wore on, and Niall continued to supply them with drink after drink, their moves got more and more explicit.

“You ok there love?” Louis teased as he ground back against Harry’s crotch, not a sliver of space between them, the hard outline of Harry’s cock pressing against him as he moved.

Harry answered him the only way he could manage, by wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and mouthing a stripe up the side of his neck, nibbling and biting as he went, “ _So_ good Lou. You?”

Louis leant back and let Harry’s hands trail all over his body, kissing was awkward but he managed it, nibbling at Harry’s lower lip breathing into his mouth as he spoke. “Do you want to know what I was going to tell you earlier? I think you’re going to like it, or maybe even _love_ it.” And he was teasing now.

“But I reckon I’ll need to take you somewhere private when I break the news”, he ground back on Harry again as if to illustrate the point.

“Take me then Lou, anywhere,” Harry begged.

They stumbled their way off the dance floor, Niall and Zayn giving them knowing looks as they made their way out of the club. Louis dragged Harry out into the fresh air, and down a side street away from the people that were thronging around the entrance to the club.  

Louis pushed him against the brick wall, street deserted and palmed at his cock as he spoke, “Ssshhh, you’re going to have to be quiet love,” Harry just looked at him with big eyes and Louis silenced him with a kiss, too much teeth and not enough finesse. He broke the kiss and pulled Harry to his level so they could rest their foreheads together. Harry squirming and groaning as Louis applied pressure to his cock relentlessly.

He looked Harry straight in the eye as he spoke, excited to see his reaction, “So you know we said about flat hunting?” and Harry just nodded, bucking up into Louis’ hand.

“Well we were going to do it anyway yeah? But guess what, Zayn told me earlier that he’s going to have to move out, is moving to Dublin in a month. So yeah, looks like there’s nothing stopping us now. You get to have me all day every day if you want.”

Harry was pawing at his shirt, eyes glazed over, mouth slack, so he decided to go in for the kill, “Is that what you want love, because I know I do, I want you all day every day, want to make a life with you.”

It was too much for Harry, he bucked up into Louis’ hand one last time before growling out the words, “Please Lou _yes_ , that’s what I want, take me home, need you to fuck me.”

And yeah, he’d thought it before, but he knew it for sure now, his boyfriend, the love of his life, had a domesticity kink, and he couldn’t have been more delighted about it.

…...

“Gem please, my head’s killing me, don’t shout”

He'd planned to meet Gemma for lunch, but too much alcohol and the hangover from hell had put paid to that. Harry was lying in bed, Louis plastered to his side and feeling just as rough, as he tried to placate Gemma.

He’d texted her the night before, too drunk and too giddy, with a jumbled message talking about flat hunting and containing far too many exclamation marks. And in turn Gemma had called him far, far too early in the morning to give him a piece of her mind.

“I’m not shouting Harry, but really, are you sure, you’ve only know each other a few months, isn’t it a bit fast? You know what you’re like. Maybe you should just slow down a bit?” She sounded more protective than annoyed really, even Harry could tell that through his banging head.

“Please Gem, just be happy for us yeah? He’s it for me, and it’s mutual, we’ve discussed it. This is what we want. Please, I love you, and I want you to be happy for me.” He could feel Louis drawing soothing circles on his stomach as he willed Gemma to see things from his point of view.

There was a sigh from her end of the line before she spoke again, “I’m just looking out for you Harry, that’s all, you know that don’t you? I’m your big sister, it’s my job. But you sound pretty sure, and if I can hear how happy you are through a hangover he must be something special I guess.”

With something of a blessing from Gemma, and a promise to rearrange lunch for later in the week, he hung up and turned his attention back to Louis who was looking just as rotten as he felt.

 “Come on Lou, I’ll make us a fry up and once we feel a bit more human we can have a look at some websites. I can’t wait to get started, can’t wait to reunite our little family of three.”

 ……..


	18. Chapter 18

“Lou, I think this is the one. What do you reckon?” Harry asked, his hand clasped in Louis’, his dimples popping with the smile that was threatening to overtake his entire face. He’d been like this all morning, bouncing from foot to foot as they came closer and closer to building a life together, excited at even the most mundane or downright ugly flat they’d been to see. And Louis had never been more in love.

Zayn had been home a few days and he hadn’t seen Harry as much, only managing to squeeze in a quick lunch here and there. So Louis knew exactly where his enthusiasm for each and every flat they had seen was coming from. He felt it too, the need deep in his chest to open his eyes each morning and have Harry by his side, to go to bed holding each other close, and to wake up all over again with Harry in his arms. He understood completely, and the fact that they were so clearly on the same page just made him even more sure that they were doing the right thing.

Instead of saying any of that though, he just ran a fingertip over Harry’s knuckles, their fingers intertwined, and placed a soft kiss to his lips as he spoke, “You’ve said that about every single one love, they can’t _all_ be the one.” And seeing Harry’s lips drop into the slightest hint of a pout, he followed it up with a bump of their hips, before he carried on, “Come on love, even the one with the 70s wallpaper? The one with the brown bathroom suite? They were both the one were they?”

They’d seen some absolute shockers over the course of the morning, even combined their budget wasn’t huge as far as rent went, and they couldn’t be in central London, too expensive, and too many main roads for them to worry about as far as Princess was concerned. Thankfully Harry had decided to sell his car, so that was one less thing to try and factor in. But still, their options were limited, and Louis drew the line at a few things, namely; damp, no bath, and serial killers masquerading as neighbours. Not too much to ask really.

Maybe Harry did have a point though, this one, the last of their viewings for the day did tick those boxes as well as a fair few more. It hadn’t looked much from the outside, just a standard red-brick Victorian terraced house on a quiet enough street. And they’d only have the downstairs. But inside, inside had been another story, the current tenants were still living there, and it was so clear that it was a home, and that it could be a home for them too.   
Children’s toys littered the main living room, but didn’t take away from the light wooden flooring, high ceilings, and huge bay window that let the April sunshine stream in. The walls were painted in a pale duck egg blue that reminded Louis of their hotel room in Paris, in a way that felt more like fate than a coat of paint had any real right to.

The kitchen was small but functional, crayon drawings stuck on the fridge freezer, masses of plants on the windowsill giving the room a sense of life that was palpable. The bathroom had an actual bath in it, and the bedroom was huge. Louis thought it had most likely been the dining room in the house's previous life. The large bed faced the window, and the small original fireplace sat in the centre of the other wall, the room again painted the same evocative shade of blue. But the best was yet to come.

Leading them back through the kitchen, the agent opened the back door and took a step to the side, letting them out ahead of her. The garden. It was perfect, wooden decking leading from the door out to a wider area that the current tenants used as a seating area, table and chairs nestled neaty in the little space. The rest of the garden was all kinds of shades of green, established trees and shrubs forming a sense of privacy that Louis loved immediately. He could picture them here, Princess chasing butterflies to her heart's content, the two of them nestled in a big chair wrapped in a blanket sharing a cup of tea, He could see it so clearly.

So yeah, maybe Harry was right about this one. Louis turned from where he’d been daydreaming and pulled Harry into a full body hug, “I think you’re onto something here love, this one feels pretty special doesn’t it?” Harry just nodded from his place in Louis’ arms and whispered into his hair, “Do we need to see any others Lou? Or shall we just go for it? Bet they’ve got loads of people interested, it’s so pretty.”

Everything in him wanted to just say ‘sod it’ and go for it, but it was all moving a bit faster than Louis had legislated for, he’d never imagined that they’d find and fall in love with somewhere on their first day of looking. He still needed to get some of the details from Zayn. Exactly when he was moving out. And they also needed to broach the whole ‘Princess situation’ with the agent, it hadn’t said ‘no pets’ but it hadn’t explicitly said it was ok either. So, much as he just want to go for it, much as he knew Harry was itching to just sign whatever needed signing, they had some boring grown up stuff to do before they could make this lovely possibility a reality.

His arms still wrapped around Harry, with the agent giving them a knowing smile from her place in the doorway, Louis placed a kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose, before kissed the words into his mouth, “We don’t need to see anymore love. But we need to speak to Niall and Zayn, don’t want to leave them in the lurch do we? And if we can get that all sorted, reckon we can give you a call tomorrow?”

The last part of the sentence was directed at the agent, who just smiled again and nodded, before letting her professional facade slip, “Of course, I think you two would be perfect, and just so you don’t worry, I don’t have any other viewings lined up today, take your time and give me a call when you’re ready.”

As they left the flat and walked the short distance to the tube station hand in hand, they were more than ready, beyond ready to take the next step, to make their future a reality.

……..

“So you’re sure, like _sure_ sure, this isn’t just because Zayn’s moving out is it? You’re doing it for the right reasons?” Gemma asked, never one to hold back. She took a sip of her drink and picked at her bowl of chips as she waited for Harry to reply, conscious that her lunch break was ticking by and she needed to get to the point of their catch-up.

She’d only met Louis briefly once, he’d popped in on one of their lunch dates a couple of months back on his way to work, and he seemed nice. They’d seemed like a good fit. She could tell, even from those few minutes that Louis brought the confidence out in her brother that she knew was hidden under the surface all along. She saw it in the little things, in the way Harry dressed when they were together, the way he had his nails painted proudly in bright red, the way he seemed to stand taller, to carry himself in a more self-assured way with Louis by his side. But still, it was her job to be protective. She’d seen him get hurt too many times. Seen him give his heart away too easily only to have it trampled on carelessly, to have the love he had to offer thrown back in his face. She’d been there to pick up the pieces and put him back together again one too many times. She just needed to be sure, needed to make sure he was ok and not about to get hurt all over again.

She could tell, before he’d even spoken that this one was different, that this was more than Harry needing to have someone to love. In the past he’d been defensive, had bitten her head off when she’d asked similar questions. This time, he just took a sip of his tea, smiled and settled back in his chair before replying, tone soft and steady. “Of course Gem. It’s just a happy coincidence with Zayn. Just makes things a bit easier. But we’d decided we wanted to do this before we even knew he was moving. We love each other, we want to have a life together.” And taking another sip of his tea, “It might seem a bit fast, but it just feels right, just feels really natural. He makes me happy. And we want the same things. It’s all good.”

In the face of such calm and sincerity there wasn’t much else to say, she’d seen it with her own eyes, and now she’d heard it from Harry in his own words, not a shred of doubt to be found. And who was she to argue. She wanted her brother happy, and this was the happiest she’d seen him in years, ever really.

“That’s all I wanted to hear baby bro, you know I have to ask don’t you? Just looking out for you aren’t I?” She ruffled his hair and pinched his cheek as she spoke.

“Gem…get off!” Harry complained half-heartedly, trying to duck away from her unsuccessfully, “I’ve got to go back to work in a sec, I’m a professional, can’t go back looking a right state.”

“Come on then loser,” Gemma joked, standing and pulling her coat on, wrapping her scarf around her neck, “You’re not the only one that’s got places to go and people to see.”

As they walked out into the bustle that was London at lunchtime, she pulled him into one final tight hug, before walking away, calling over her shoulder, “Say hi to Louis for me, and no cancelling next time, hangover or no hangover!”

……...

Louis let himself into Harry’s flat. They’d exchanged keys weeks ago, but this was the first time he’d actually used it. He’d finished work early and had texted Harry to make sure it was ok to let himself in. He knew Niall was at work too so he figured he’d just watch TV until Harry got home. They had plans to go out for dinner, and finalise details before ringing the lettings agent back to seal the deal on the flat they’d fallen in love with.

Opening the door, he shouted “Hello, anyone there?” just to be on the safe side, and with no reply coming he stepped inside and took off his brogues, stashing them in the shoe rack under the stairs next to Harry’s collection of boots and Niall’s pile of trainers.

He walked to Harry’s bedroom and shut the door, settling on the bed and turning on the little TV. As he flicked through the channels, looking for something what wasn’t trashy daytime TV he made a silent vow to get Sky in their new place. After a few fruitless minutes of channel surfing he huffed at the lack of quality viewing and threw the remote on the bed, deciding his options were truly terrible. He needed something to occupy him that wasn’t Jeremy Kyle, and stories he was pretty sure were wholly made up purely to ‘entertain’. He had a couple of hours to kill until Harry got home, if not longer, and looking around the room to the open wardrobe and dresser drawers spilling their contents out onto the floor it hit him.

He was a genius.

And he was almost sure that Harry’s face would be worth the potential embarrassment of Niall walking in on him first. But where would it be? It had been months, maybe Harry didn’t even have it anymore, he might have taken it back, might have returned it ages ago when Louis wasn’t working.

He didn’t want to rummage too much, didn’t want to invade Harry’s privacy, but as he stood and walked over to the wardrobe he saw it. At least he thought that was what it was, the Selfridges bag on the top shelf, peaking out from behind a pile of carefully folded identical black skinny jeans. Smiling to himself he stood on his tiptoes and caught hold of the handle, looking inside he gave himself a mental high-five, a plan forming in his mind. A plan he was sure Harry would approve of.

He swung the little bag in one hand as he walked out of Harry’s room and towards the bathroom, he closed the door and turned the shower on, still marvelling at his hidden genius qualities, getting hard just thinking about it.

……...

Harry walked up the stairs to his flat, swearing under his breath, he was late, later than he’d meant to be. He’d got held up at the office and then the tube had been crammed, he’d had to let three trains pass before he’d managed to force his way onto one of them. He was exhausted and annoyed about being exhausted. Still, the thought of Louis waiting for him, the thought of collapsing into his arms eased his weary limbs and spurred him on.

He opened the door to find the flat in darkness, stepping inside he called out softly, “Lou, you here?” With no reply, he toed off his boots and walked into the living room, throwing his coat and scarf on the back of one of the dining chairs. The flat was silent. Confused, he took a couple of steps towards the kitchen, and then he heard it, quiet, but a sound he’d recognise anywhere, the soft sound of Louis snoring.

It seemed like Louis was as tired as he was, and taking pity on him, Harry walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle, deciding to wake Louis up with a cup of tea and a cuddle.

That was the idea anyway.

He pushed his bedroom door open with his foot, hands full, to be greeted by the sight he had expected but that none the less made his heart melt. Louis, snuggled down in his bed, only the top of his head poking out. He placed the cups on the bedside table and unbuttoned his shirt chucking it at the chair in the corner, trousers following suit.

As he moved around the room, Louis shuffled and huffed out a deep breathe, teetering on the edge of sleep, threatening to wake up. Harry moved extra quietly then. He loved Louis soft and sleepy, loved the moment where he woke up and opened his eyes, loved the look of peace and contentment he saw each and every time.

He tied his hair back in a bun and lifted the duvet to creep in next to Louis who had settled again and was snoring gently.

And _fuck_ , he was not expecting that.

……..

Louis hummed in his sleep, warm all over. He was barely awake, drifting at the point where sleep and consciousness blurs into something wonderful, that moment where your whole body feels relaxed, where you’re not sure where the comfort of the duvet ends and you begin. He lifted his arms above his head and stretched, holding on to Harry’s headboard and arching his back. Stretching his legs and pointing his toes, he let out a low involuntarily moan, suddenly wide awake and very much aware of the wet warm heat enveloping his cock, and the weight of Harry’s arm across his hips.

_“Harry….”_ he moaned and arched his back again, gripping the sheets as he felt Harry lick a stripe down the length of his cock and take his balls in his mouth in turn, “Fuck, Harry, come here, please.”

He opened his eyes to see Harry crawling up his body, duvet pooling at their feet. And his lips were on Louis in an instant, working their way up his neck, licking and nibbling, teeth and tongue, while Harry ground the long length of his cock down on him.

Harry looked wrecked, hair falling out of his bun, curls framing his face, cheeks red, pupils blown, crashing their lips together. He nibbled on Louis’ bottom lip and his mouth dropped open to grant him access. Between kisses, Harry all but growled it out, “Fuck Lou, fucking hell, I can’t believe you.” As Harry’s teeth grazed his collarbone, Louis had to force himself to think clearly and work out what he was talking about.

Of course.

Harry took his earlobe between his teeth and tugged lightly, dragging another moan out of him, “Lou, the jockstrap, the _fucking_ jockstrap, I can’t believe you. Fuck me you look _incredible,_ ”

His genius plan from earlier. It was all coming back to him now. Yeah, he had looked pretty good, in the steamy mirror after his shower, cock and balls held in place securely, arse completely bare save for the straps on side of the waistband. It was a pretty good look, and Harry’s reaction was testament to it.

Louis smiled weakly as he spoke, “I thought you’d like it. Want to fuck you love. Never got to last time. Can I?” Too much to drink had meant him fucking Harry had gone out of the window after clubbing, replaced by getting each other off before either of them were even naked. But not this time. “I had a plan…” Louis gritted out as Harry ground down on him again.

Harry sat back on his hips, running his hands up the length of Louis’ torso, murmuring, he took Louis’ breath away, “I’m all yours Lou, just keep this on yeah?” he pleaded, fingering at the waistband of the jockstrap that had most definitely had the desired effect so far.

Louis lifted himself, leaning back on his forearms, “Course love, of course, will limit our options a bit but….” Harry didn’t seem to care, stumbling off the bed to get the condoms and lube, back in an instant, handing them over to Louis with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Don’t care Lou, just need you, want you in me so bad.”

……...

Harry was holding on for dear life, scared that if he let go that he’d completely lose it.

“There Lou, there, there, there,” The words fell out of their own accord on every flick of Louis’ hips.

Harry was on his knees, hair falling in front of his face, Louis finding his prostate with every stroke, and he was so close, so desperately close. He could feel sweat building between them, and Louis’ hips when pressing against him with every deep thrust. He knew he’d have bruises, wanted to have bruises.

The visuals of what he couldn’t see where driving him mad, he knew Louis had kept the jockstrap on, knew he’d just pushed it down enough to free his straining cock before sliding the condom on and covering Harry in lube.

“Fuck Lou, deeper, deeper,” Harry begged, breath coming out shaky. Louis held onto his hips and picked up the pace, the room filled with the sound of skin on skin. But Harry needed more, grinding back against Louis, he sat up straighter and reached behind him, grabbing hold of Louis by the elastic waistband of the jock strap and physically pulling him in, as deep as he would go.

Louis’ hips stuttered at that, and he flopped forward, covering Harry’s broad back entirely with his chest, letting Harry take control, hauling Louis forwards, and grinding back down onto him.

“Oh god, Harry….” Louis sounded like Harry felt, hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

Harry pushed them back further still, until Louis was resting on his heels. He pulled all the way off, leaving Louis’ cock bouncing between them. It didn’t last long though, turning and crawling into Louis’ lap, he kissed him deep and dirty, sinking back down onto him in one fluid motion.

“Fuck Harry, so tight...” Louis whimpered, pretty much pinned beneath him.

“You feel so good Lou,” and grinding down into his lap Harry groaned the words out, “urgh, _so good_ , so good, need to come...”

Harry clung to Louis, bouncing in his lap, thigh muscles burning, creeping closer and closer to the edge with every move they made. He shuddered as Louis reached around and fingered him alongside his cock, feeling at his rim and pushing the tip of one finger inside.

“Urgh Lou, help, need to come, please..” and Harry was actually begging now, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Louis kissed his way up Harry’s neck and took hold of his cock, smearing the precome that had gathered and moving his hand in time with their bodies meeting.

“Lou, Lou, Lou…” was the best Harry could manage, before Louis gave his hand one last twist, his hips one more shallow thrust. And that was it, that single thread Harry had been hanging on by snapped, body seizing, muscles clenching, letting out a strangled cry as he came all over Louis’ hand, all over Louis’ stomach, muscles trembling and spasming as aftershocks wracked through his body.

Limp, Louis kissed him softly, tongue trailing down the shaft of his neck, nibbling at his Adam’s apple, before he pulled out. He ripped the condom off and gave himself one, two, three tugs, pushing the jock strap down around his thighs, and Harry back onto the bed. On a silent scream he came, all over Harry’s stomach, before collapsing down on top of him, the mess they’d made covering them both.

They lay there, a mess of limbs, sweat, and come, Louis’ head resting on Harry’s chest, Harry staring up at the ceiling trying to recover from what had just happened.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and Niall shouted - thankfully through the closed door - “You alright in there lads? Sounds like you could do with a cuppa, I’ll put the kettle on.”

And honestly, their own place couldn’t come soon enough.

…..

Zayn knew him too well, and it was annoying to put it mildly.

“So Lou, I move in three weeks, I know that’s not long for you to get organised, but you and Harry have found somewhere, right? That’s what you said wasn’t it?”

Louis didn’t reply, just carried on stroking Princess, cooing at her as he scratched under her chin. Maybe if he just ignored him for long enough, Zayn would let it drop.

“Mate, I know it’s short notice, and I don’t know how long it’ll take for you to move into your place, but i can pay my rent until you move. It’s the least I can do. What with you taking Noodle and everything.”

“Fuck’s sake Zayn, it’s Princess, we’ve talked about that.” Louis snapped, studiously not making eye contact.

Zayn sighed and slumped back further into the sofa, “Alright mate spit it out. For one thing she’s still my cat at the moment so I can call her what I like, and I’ll call her Noodle thank you very much. You can call her what you want once she’s officially yours. And two, what the hell’s got into you? You’ve been quiet all evening, and you don’t normally snap like that.”

Louis was still quiet. With it spelt out so bluntly he felt kind of terrible, but he’d been stewing all day, and he didn’t know where it had come from. Well no, that was a lie, he’d had a terrible dream the night before that he hadn’t been able to shake, and it had seeped into the darkest corners of his brain, making him doubt himself. That was where it had come from.

He took a deep breath, and moved Princess off of his lap, pulling his knees up and hugging them to his chest.

“Had a stupid fucking dream about Matt last night didn’t I. Was right back in the flat where it happened, where I walked in on them. It’s just put me in a foul mood, that’s all.”

He looked up and Zayn was staring at him like he didn’t believe a word he was saying, or at least that he knew that there were more words left unsaid.

Louis sighed in defeat, “Fine, ok, fine. Maybe I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed. About moving in with Harry. It’s not that I don’t want to. I really want to. It’s just that I’m worried I guess, that history’s going to repeat itself. Which is so stupid because I know Harry would never do that to me. Not for one second do I think he’d hurt me. I don’t know, it’s stupid. Ignore me, my head’s just a bit of a mess today I guess. Think I just need to sleep, I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Zayn prodded him in the leg with a spindly finger, and once he had Louis’ attention, he waggled it at him, looking very un-Zayn like, “Nah mate, you are being stupid, but you don’t need to sleep on it, you need to talk to him.” At that he shoved Louis’ phone at him and walked towards his bedroom, “I’ll be in here if you need me ok?”

Louis held his phone, still not ready to make the call. He placed a kiss to Princesses head instead, and whispered into her fur, “Princess, do you remember that time I told you all men were stupid?” Ruffling her fur again and unlocking his phone, he carried on sadly, “Well it’s true, but I think it’s me that’s the stupid one.”

………

It was nearly 11pm and Harry was getting ready for bed when his phone buzzed, he smiled at the sight of Louis’ name, it didn’t last long though when he read the message.

_Hi love, can I come over, need to talk, it’s nothing bad xx_

With shaky hands he typed out a reply.

_Yes of course, come around whenever, I’ll stay up xx_

Niall was out so he was left to stew on his own, to think of any and all possibilities of why Louis needed to talk to him so urgently, and why it had to be in person. He’d said it wasn’t anything bad, but Harry struggled to believe it as he paced the length of the flat wracking his brains for what it could possibly be.

……..

Louis took the steps to Harry’s flat two at a time, he needed to get there and talk before he got cold feet, and he wanted to put Harry out of the misery and worry he could just tell he’d be in. He’d tried to phrase the text in a reassuring way, but if the shoe was on the other foot he knew he’d be entirely stressed out.

Louis felt awful as soon as he saw him, Harry looked unsure of himself and a frown line had taken up residence between his beautiful green eyes. Louis took one big step forward and pulled him into a hug he hoped spoke volumes.

Harry wriggled away after a couple of seconds, chewing at his bottom lip and letting out a cautious sounding “Lou, what is it?”

Louis took his hand and led him into the flat, sitting them both down on one of the sofas, knees bumping together, coat still on, he didn’t want to drag things out any longer than necessary.

“It’s nothing really bad love, I just need to talk to you, need to be honest with you.” And that didn’t seem to do anything to reassure Harry, he just looked at Louis with sad eyes and waited for him to carry on.

Louis drew circles on Harry’s palm, and ploughed on, “Ok, please just know this before I say anything else, I love you, and I still want to move in with you more than anything. I just need to be honest with you. Just so you know what living with me will be like.”

It was Harry’s turn to squeeze his hand then, urging him on. Louis knew that in reality he was battling against demons of his past, that it had absolutely nothing to do with Harry. It was muscle memory pure and simple, casting an unfair shadow on their future, trying to sabotage it. But it didn’t make how he was feeling any less real.

He spoke carefully, thinking through every word, “Please promise you’ll hear me out ok? You know about Matt. You know how that ended. We dated and everything was great. We fell in love and everything was great. We moved in together and everything was great.”

He paused to compose himself, imploring Harry to understand what he was trying to say. “We moved in together and everything was great. Until it wasn’t. And I trust you one-hundred percent, that’s not what this is about. It’s just the only experience I’ve got of this, of this whole living together thing, is of it ending really badly, and I guess I’m just freaking out a bit that’s all. It doesn't change anything. I’m sorry if I scared you. Zayn told me to talk to you”

It was Harry’s turn to pull Louis in for a hug, wrapping his arms around him, and resting his head on the top of Louis’, placing a kiss there before he spoke.

“Zayn is very wise then Lou. You are allowed to feel exactly how you feel, there’s no right or wrong. So don’t feel bad. And I’m glad you’ve told me.”

He placed a kiss to Louis’ temple and the silence was his cue to carry on.

“Saying that though, one set of circumstances doesn’t make a pattern. Just because it ended badly last time doesn’t mean it’s going to with me. You do know that don’t you. I’m not him. I’m me.”

Louis could hear the tremble in Harry’s voice and looked up, running a fingertip across his frown line, trying to smooth it away. They were silent for a while, each deep in thought, and when Harry did finally speak again, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Please don’t let him wreck this for us Lou. You deserve better. He’s done enough damage. The biggest ‘fuck you’ you could give him is to have faith in us, in me, in you, and be happy.

“There’s no rush for us to move in, we can take all the time you need. I’d do it tomorrow, but I don’t want to do anything without you. Ok?”

Louis had somehow ended up with his head resting in Harry’s lap, his pajama bottoms soft against his cheek, he just lay there for a moment letting Harry’s words sink in, let them take root and grow, let them swallow up the remnants of doubt that had lingered. Finally he turned to look at Harry, and that frown line was gone, and in its place was Harry, his Harry. And looking at him, so open, honest, and selfless, he knew they were different. Nothing compared to what they had.

“Thank you love.” Louis smiled as he spoke, his first proper one since arriving.

“Lou, you don’t have to thank me, this is what we do We’re a team. I’m here for you, always.”

He sat up and placed a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips, which were wet from tears Louis hadn’t noticed before, wiping them away with his fingertip, he whispered the words into Harry’s mouth, “I am so lucky to have found you Harry, and I cannot wait to make a life with you, I’m ready.”

Harry just kissed him back, and whispered words of his own, words that meant the world to Louis, “Guess that makes two of us then Lou. We’re the luckiest.”

………...


	19. Chapter 19

It was one of those bright, ‘almost feels like summer’ kind of days, the sun shining with no real heat to it, trees in full leaf, daffodils and primrose in full bloom. Hand in hand, in accidentally matching skinny jeans, cosy jumpers, and beanies, they made their way to Selfridges, Louis a customer for once. 

“Come on Lou, this is the fun bit! Let’s go make the most of your discount, yeah?”

Harry scrolled through their list on his phone, of all the things they’d discussed, all the things they’d decided to treat themselves to. Their new flat came furnished, but still, they wanted it to feel like home, their home. So they made their way through the all too familiar doors, and squeezed past the throng of customers towards the ‘home’ department, Harry bouncing from foot to foot, pulling Louis along behind him, excited to see what they could get for the budget they’d agreed on.

“Alright love, going to pull my arm out of my socket at this rate,” Louis teased, hurrying to match the pace Harry had set.

They entered the department, with sofas, cushions, picture frames, curtains, candles, and bedding stretching out in front of them as far as the eye could see. Harry stopped as he tried to take it all in, not sure where to start. Louis was there though, standing on his tiptoes, placing a tender kiss to Harry’s lips and squeezing him around the waist, soothing the momentary feeling of being truly overwhelmed away.

“It’s ok love, might know my way around here too, covered the odd shift when they got really desperate,” Louis smiled as he spoke, pulling Harry’s beanie off his head and stuffing it in his back pocket, ruffling his long hair for good measure. “Come on, this way, we wanted picture frames right?”

Half an hour of Louis guiding them from section to section later, they were at the till, loaded down with everything on their list plus a couple of spontaneous additions. As they placed their haul on the counter, ready to pay, Louis nestled into Harry’s side and whispered in his ear, laughter in his voice, “You got enough there love? Beginning to think you only want me for my discount, some kind of very domestic master plan.”

Harry blushed and placed a kiss to Louis’ temple, “Well you know me and domesticity Lou, I can’t resist.”

They were broken out of their bubble by a soft cough, and a fond, knowing look from the older lady serving them. “Would you like these wrapped boys?” she asked kindly, pointing to the jade colour glass photo frame, butterflies engraved into it, and the simple heavy silver one sitting alongside it.

Harry let Louis reply, drifting off into a day-dream of making their new flat home, and how he couldn’t wait to add photos of the two of them to the ones already boxed up of Niall and the rest of his family.

“Wrapped please, can’t afford any breakages, can we love? My salary doesn’t stretch to paying for things twice unfortunately.” Louis replied, and even in his distracted state Harry could pick up on the slight undercurrent of frustration in Louis’ voice,

……..

“Maaate, can’t believe this is it, our last week, end of an era or some soppy shit.” Smoke curled its way out of Zayn’s mouth as he spoke, words lazy, body sunk deep into the dark grey sofa that would soon join Louis and Harry in their new place.

He took a deep drag and offered the spliff to Louis, resorting to elbowing him in the side to get his attention. “Earth to Louis, here, take this will you, you missed me getting all emotional on you.”

Louis scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie, not sure if it was the weed, beer, emotions, or just the  _ change _ of it all that was getting to him. He’d been mulling it over for days, trying to pinpoint why he wasn’t bouncing with joy. His life was awesome. He was in love and loved in return. Any previous relationship baggage was the most minute blip on a past landscape that he was too busy looking forward to notice at all. Finally though, after listening to Zayn talk enthusiastically about his promotion and the new challenges it would bring him, the penny dropped.

“Thanks mate, sorry, was miles away.” And on a deep exhale, “Don’t suppose you can give me your bosses details again can you? Don’t know what I’ve done with the business card. Everything’s boxed up now.”

Zayn took a sip of his beer and replied, curiosity clear in his voice, “Course mate, they’re on my phone, remind me in the morning yeah?” and after another sip, “What do you want to talk to him about?”

Louis patted the sofa, trying to tempt Princess to come up and sit with him, provide him with the distraction he needed in the face of Zayn’s questioning. His mind was foggy, and he didn’t know how to explain without it sounding like he was ungrateful for what he had, or jealous of how Zayn’s career was skyrocketing.

A lap full of Princess, who was kneading furiously trying to get comfy, Louis settled back into the sofa, picking at a stray thread on his pajama bottoms, choosing his words as carefully as he could.

“I guess it’s just, seeing you and Harry doing so well, it made me think. Realise that I might want more than I’ve got at the moment. Like career-wise, I still don’t know  _ how _ , or exactly  _ what  _ I want to do, but I do want to try.”

Princess finally settled and curled up on his lap, Louis stroked the soft fur under her chin and carried on, aware of Zayn looking at him through the dense smoke hanging in the room. “So yeah, thought I’d just give him a call for a chat. See if he’s got any advice for me. Can’t do any harm can it?”

He picked distractedly at the label on his beer bottle, tearing it into strips, and rolling them into tiny balls between his fingers. He felt the sofa dip as he fiddled away, and before he could react Zayn has his arms around him, pulling him into an awkward side-hug that had Princess glaring at them sleepily.

“Lou, that’s great, you do what makes you happy. And you’ve got to keep a roof over this one's head don’t you?” Zayn joked, ruffling Princesses fur, not letting Louis go.

“Seriously though, I’ll get his number for you now….And I’m going to really miss you Lou, you know that right? We’ve been through a lot haven’t we, over the years?” It was probably the most emotional Louis had ever heard Zayn get, and that alone brought a lump to his throat and had his eyes stinging.

He moulded himself ever more deeply into Zayn’s arms and smiled weakly as he spoke, “We have mate, truly. And I’m going to miss you too. You’re a good friend...the best friend.”

…….

They made their way through the people milling around the bar, Niall not trusting Harry with their drinks, and found their favourite spot, worn armchairs and an even more battered wooden table between them. It was their local, and it was full of the memories they’d made over the years. Nights that had ended in too much to drink and sore heads in the morning. Nights that had been spent celebrating and commiserating depending on how Niall’s sporting loves had fared. Nights spent with Niall trying to kick start Harry’s love life, and then invariably drowning their sorrows when Harry had returned from another disaster of a date.

Harry was feeling unexpectedly nostalgic, almost like he was grieving for the loss of potential future memories. Niall, not so much.

“Cheers mate! Here’s to you and Louis, may your future be merry, bright and full of adorable babies!” Niall knocked their glasses together, beer spilling all over their hands, before taking a huge gulp, half the pint gone when he crashed it back down on the table.  

Harry wiped his hands on his jeans, and replied,  “Well at least we’ll be able to make ‘babies’ without you listening in!” and then on a long sigh, his voice coloured with concern, “You’re sure you’ll be ok though? Without me? Feel like I’m abandoning you or something.”

Niall was midway through downing the rest of his pint, and started choking, his raucous laughter filling their section of the pub. Spluttering, coughing, and spraying Harry with second-hand beer again, he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Can see why you and Louis get on so well buddy, both as dramatic as each other I reckon!” He ploughed on, seemingly oblivious to the pout that was threatening to form on Harry’s face. “It’s not like you’re moving far. Only a couple of tube stops isn’t it? And you’re not going to get rid of me that easily, not if you’re getting Sky as well. Reckon Sunday roasts and footie at yours sounds like a plan! Genius or what?”

And that was enough. He knew Niall inside out and back to front, he could tell when he was really ok, and when he was bluffing. He was fine. Beneath the jokes and the banter it was clear - even though some things were changing, some things would stay exactly the same.

“Alright Niall, whatever you say. Do you fancy another drink?” Harry asked motioning towards Niall’s empty glass.

“Course mate, as long as it’s on you.” and yeah, somethings would never change, and Harry wouldn’t let them even if they tried.

……..

“Oh hi, can I speak to Oliver please,” looking at the business card, hands shaking, Louis added, “Mr Simpson, sorry.”

The clipped female voice on the other end of the line replied, “Mr Simpson doesn’t take unsolicited calls, and he’s busy all day.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting in all honesty, why he thought he’d get put straight through, from what Zayn had told him Oliver was a busy, important man.

He should have known better. “Oh ok, that’s fine, can you let him know that Louis Tomlinson called for him. I’m a friend of Zayn Malik’s, we’ve spoken before.”

It was only half-true, a portfolio returned with a note didn’t count as ‘talking’ as such, but he wasn’t in the mood for trying to explain all the details. He’d meant to call during his lunch break, but a midday rush had put paid to that idea, leaving him no option but to call on the way home. He’d be busy babysitting for Millie all evening.  

“That’s great, thank you, I’ll wait for his call.” And with that he hung up and sent Harry a text straight away.

_ Hi love, so I was a proper grown up and called him, he was busy. Fingers crossed he’ll call me back. I’ll give you a ring when I get home. Love you xx _

He slid his phone into his jacket pocket and walked to the tube station, hoping he wouldn’t get home to missed calls from the lack of signal for most of his journey.

As he weaved through the throng of people heading in the same direction, but oh so slowly, he whispered under his breath. He put it out into the universe, even though he was pretty sure the universe could tell he didn’t really believe it, and would tell him to sod right off.  “He’s going to call you back, and something great’s going to come of it.”

And if he dodged cracks in the pavement, took the long way round ladders, and keep his fingers crossed the whole way home, then so be it.

….

A lot had happened in the days since the call, and as he walked to work, Louis’ thoughts drifted back to the previous night, or ‘Moving Day Eve’ as Harry had christened it. His arms wrapped around Louis’ waist as they settled for the night, Princess at their feet and his bed surrounded by a life in boxes. Well, not his life really, not the important parts, the really special parts, those belonged to the man that snored quietly in his sleep, that snuggled in closer as the night progressed, that held Louis’ whole heart so carefully in his embrace. The boxes were just full of ‘stuff’, which was why he’d felt so calm as he’d fallen asleep.

Today though, today he was a bag of nervous energy, less of a spring in his step, more of a trampoline. He’d woken up earlier than usual, and with most of his clothes boxed up, he had, he was ashamed to say, pulled on the clothes he’d worn the day before. Harry had the day off, and he’d left him in bed, with promises that he’d come home straight after his half-day, ready for the big move. Harry had planted a soft, sleepy kiss to his lips and told him how proud he was of him in a voice that had Louis blushing from the tips of his ears. The move wasn’t the only reason he had to be excited.

He took a calming breath and smoothed his hands on his black trousers as he walked out onto the shop floor. He headed straight to the till, safe in the knowledge that he didn’t have any appointments, that he just had to get through four hours before he could rush back, and with Harry by his side, get the fun and games of moving started.

The relative peace and quiet didn’t last long though, and really, he was thankful to have someone else to share his news with.

Sophia appeared, looking elegant as ever in a simple black shift dress and flat black ballet pumps, she sidled up next to him, grinned and squealed. Head in hands, Louis was forever thankful that there weren’t many customers before 10am.

“Lou Lou! It’s the big day! How exciting,” and then after a pause, she poked him in the bicep with a sharp fingernail and carried on, “But no offence or anything, why are you even here? Moving is always a nightmare, should have taken the whole day off.”

His hearing recovered from her earlier outburst, Louis couldn’t find it in him to take her bait, no one and nothing was going to dampen his mood today.

“Well Sophia, maybe you should come and help us after work eh? Or are you busy with loverboy?” he teased, knowing there was no way she’d give up an evening with Liam, they were inseparable.

He laughed as she gave him a pointed look and ignored what he’d just said, “Anyway Lou Lou, how did your meeting go? You going to abandon me and be a fancy designer?”

Louis settled on the stool behind the till before replying, “It went really well, in the end.”

They’d met the previous evening for coffee, and the first thing that had struck Louis was that Oliver had a kind face, grey eyes with laughter lines, and a mouth that was always in a half-smile. But looks could be deceiving,  Oliver hadn’t made it easy for him. Louis had expected it to just be a chat, maybe an opportunity to pick his brains about what it took to become a designer, and if he was really lucky, maybe a contact or two to at least get him talking to the right people.

It had turned into a full-blown mentoring session though, Oliver asking him difficult questions about what he wanted from his career, and Louis giving sometimes painful answers. Answers that made it clear that what he’d like to do, and what financially he was able to do were, unfortunately, two very different things. He’d seen something then, something flash across Oliver’s face that he thought to start with was pity. But no, with hindsight, he’d just been putting Louis through his paces, before deciding to offer him an opportunity that was more than he could have wished for.

“Spit it out then Lou Lou,” Sophia encouraged, snapping him out of the memory he’d been luxuriating in.

Louis turned to face Sophia and took her hand in his, words tumbling out in a long breath, “He wants me to be in his magazine. Can you believe it Soph! Doing a series on ‘undiscovered London talent’, art, digital, tech, and he wants me to be in the fashion one.”

“Think I’m still in shock, like this doesn’t happen to me. Feel like I’m going to wake up any minute.”

Sophia just looked at him, eyes wide, and pulled him into a full body hug, fingernails digging into his back through the thin fabric of his shirt, “Lou Lou, that’s amazing,” and pulling back to look him straight in the eye, “Seriously, you totally deserve it, you work so hard, I’m so happy for you.”

Louis could only nod, hands trembling from the emotion of it all. To have said it out loud to someone other than Harry, it felt surreal.

“I know,’ he replied in a shaky voice barely above a whisper.

“What will it involve though Lou? What’ve you got to do for it?” Sophia asked, and Louis wished he was as composed and poised about it as she was.

“Not one hundred percent sure Soph, but work...a lot of work.” And in all honesty, he wondered if the timing was right, moving house  _ and  _ career opportunities all happening at once, but it was happening, there was no going back on Oliver’s offer now. He’d wanted it for years, so if he had to really work for it, and put in the hours, then that was just what he’d have to do.

…...

“At least there’s no stairs,” Harry huffed, out of breath as he balanced a huge box - helpfully labelled ‘random stuff’ - on his hip. He struggled his way through to the spare room and plonked it on the floor, alongside the ever growing mountain of boxes, bin bags, and suitcases. As he leant against the wall to catch his breath, he could feel the sweat pickling under his arms through the thin t-shirt he was wearing, grateful that Louis had persuaded him that shorts and t-shirt in late April was a good choice, instead of the jeans and old shirt he’d intended to wear.

“This is the last of it love, thank god,” Louis spoke, muffled behind the huge suitcase he was carrying awkwardly, hugging it to his chest, only the top of his head visible.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Louis move, bending his knees to put the suitcase down. He was wearing a thin baby blue tank top, and a loose pair of denim shorts. His hair was sticking to the back of his neck, and there was a patch of sweat running all the way from between his shoulder blades to the bottom of his back turning the fabric a darker shade, to Harry he looked incredible.

“Come here Lou,” Harry asked, reaching his arms out and making grabby hands, “Please?”

As Louis walked towards him, he held his tank away from his chest and pulled a face, “I’m all sweaty love,” and quirking an eyebrow, “We could go get clean in the shower though?”

But Harry just took hold of him around the waist and closed the distance between them, nibbling his way up Louis’ neck, “Mmmmh, like you like this Lou...can we?” And the little nod as Louis looped his arms around Harry’s neck was all the confirmation he needed. Turning and pushing Louis up against the wall, he dropped to his knees and unbuttoned Louis’ shorts, leaving them to drop with a soft thud, to the floor around his ankles. He looked up, and seeing only adoration in Louis’ eyes, carried on.

He took hold of Louis’ cock with one hand, and placed a wicked lick to the tip, holding Louis’ hips as he tried to thrust into the heat of Harry’s mouth. He nibbled his way down Louis’ inner thighs and ran one hand around the curve of his arse to feel at the soft skin of Louis’ hole.

He heard Louis’ head thud back against the wall, and made quick work of opening him up, still pliant from the night before. He tore open the little pouch of lube he pulled from his shorts pocket and coated his fingers, before sliding one finger fully in. Louis sighed above him, and moaned “More, please’, his legs starting to tremble.

Three fingers in, Louis moaned again high in his throat, and tangled his hands in Harry’s hair,  tugging hard, ‘I’m ready, I’m ready,  _ please. _ ”

On shaky legs, Harry got to his feet and slipped the condom on, using the rest of the lube to coat himself. Louis looked as overcome as Harry felt, pupils blown, cheeks a lovely shade of pink, hair matted to his head. “Come on love,” and Harry didn’t need asking twice, he gripped Louis hips and lifted him clean off the ground, wrapping Louis’ legs around his hips. Bracing him against the wall, he circled his hole with the tip of his cock before sliding in on one smooth motion.

“Fuck Harry,” Louis gasped, head thumping back against the wall again, cock painfully hard, bobbing between them.

Harry was exhausted from the move, but Louis so tight all around him, begging him to move, that exhaustion evolved into an overwhelming need to make Louis come, fast. He rocked his hips, shallow little thrusts, panting hard into the side of Louis’ neck, arms straining as he held Louis up against the cold, hard wall.

“Fuck Harry,  _ there, _ there…..don’t stop….so close,” Louis whimpered, as he tightened his thighs around Harry’s waist.

It hadn’t been long, but the emotion of the day, the build up to the day, it had Harry on the very edge of coming before he knew it. Moving his feet slightly further apart, he braced himself and thrust again, rocking his hips into the tight heat that was all Louis. They were a mess of sweat and lube, but it didn’t matter, crashing their lips together, sloppy with too much teeth and barely a shred of finesse, Harry growled the words out, “Make yourself come Lou…” and on another shallow thrust, “Do it, now.”

Legs trembling, arms aching, Harry watched as Louis’ took his leaking cock in hand and worked himself over quickly, showing no mercy. He felt Louis come before he saw it, before he heard it. Louis went perfectly still, and on a silent cry his body spasmed, muscles tightening their grip on Harry’s cock, clenching and convulsing around him as he came all over Harry’s stomach, going limp in his arms.

…...

They’d collapsed against one of the boxes, it was silent but for the sound of Harry trying to catch his breath, and the occasional car passing outside. He had his eyes closed and could feel Louis moving at his side, his hand bumping into Harry’s hip as he tried to find something in the pocket of his jean shorts.  

“Hold your hand out love,” Louis asked quietly.

Harry did as he was told and felt Louis press something cold and metallic feeling into the palm of his hand.

“Oh Lou, is this for Princess?” Harry asked, looking at the little silver name tag. It was flat, in the shape of a cat’s face, ears, whiskers, eyes and nose embossed on one side, and turning it over, engraved in a simple font -  _ Princess Noodle -  _ along with both of their mobile numbers, should she ever get lost.

“Yep,” and Louis smiled as he spoke, fiddling with the tag in Harry’s hand, running his finger over the inscription and linking their fingers together around it.

“I mean, I hope we never need it, the garden’s pretty enclosed, but just in case you know?”

And Harry understood completely, especially after the accident, but he didn’t want to dwell on those memories, they were making a fresh start - the three of them. “Thought you’d of taken the chance to dump the Noodle bit once and for all Lou?” he asked instead, squeezing Louis hand to make sure he knew he wasn’t ignoring the implication and worry.

Louis learnt his head on Harry’s shoulder, and spoke, “Nah, felt bad, I mean she was Zayn’s first. Once a Noodle always a Noodle, just officially ‘carb royalty’ now, that’s all.”

_ Carb _ _ royalty, _ Harry was sure that Louis was just as silly and soppy as he was deep down, and sitting there a mess of tired limbs, drying sweat and come, he cradled Louis’ hand in his and squeezed it, murmuring into Louis lips, “Come on Lou, let’s go try the shower out, we  _ are _ gross.”

……….

This better not be one of those ‘painting parties’ Louis,” Nick questioned, standing at their front door, holding his arms out by way of making his point.

“Well Nicholas, no one forced you to turn up looking like the whole department threw up on you, did they?” Louis bit back, ushering him in, studiously ignoring the beautiful Gucci leather embroidered slipper Nick was basically thrusting in his face.

“So these’ll be safe will they?” Nick asked again, slipping his shoes off and leaving them by the door before wandering deeper into the flat, dodging boxes as he went.

“You’ll be fine Nick,” Harry replied, appearing from their bedroom. And he took the air right out of Louis’ lungs, hair falling in soft waves around his face, upper body barely covered in a paper-thin white t-shirt, paired with  _ that  _ pair of black skinny leather trousers. It’d been too long since Louis had seen those.

But before he could say anything, do anything, Harry had disappeared into the living room, calling after him for them to come in, chatter from Niall, Sophia and Liam, and Millie and her mum bouncing through the little flat.

It was the first weekend after the move, and they were probably gluttons for punishment, having their ‘housewarming’ party so soon, but their friends had been with them every step of their relationship, it seemed wrong not to thank them and include them in their new lives as soon as possible.

Harry had already given Niall a guided tour, including his pride and joy - the yurt they’d bought and managed to put up in the garden - Louis hadn’t been sure to start with, but after a bit of pleading from Harry, and ideas forming of how they could put it to use in Louis’ head he’d caved and agreed. Niall had also met and become best friends with Princess. A tin of tuna stolen from their fridge was cheating in Louis’ book, but he was too happy to care, and was just grateful that she wasn’t too terrified by all the people and all the noise.

Louis walked to the living room, and found Millie and her mum standing, and hugging everyone. Millie had taken a particular shine to Liam, the two of them sitting on the floor and drawing for hours. As they put their coats on, Millie’s mum, Martha, pulled Louis into a hug with Millie squashed between them, hanging onto Louis’ leg. “We’ve got to go Lou, nearly Mill’s bedtime, isn’t it sweetie?” And crouching down to prise Millie away from Louis and do her coat up, “But we’ll be back soon, and if you ever fancy coming and hanging out at ours, Millie would be delighted to have you both, wouldn’t you Mills?”

Millie nodded, and pulling Harry and Louis down to her level, wrapped her little arms as best as she could around them, before drawing back and waggling a finger at them, bold beyond her years, “Princess said she’ll miss me, so you have to let me come round, ok?”

After that, things got a little messy, Niall had brought a crate of Stella as a moving in present, Sophia and Liam a bottle of tequila, and Nick a magnum of champagne. The six of them, crowded on Louis’ old sofas, Sophia on Liam’s lap, boxes as tables, had worked their way through it not so steadily over the course of the evening.

Liam, Niall and Harry had decided that drunk Twister was a fabulous idea, and with Nick adjudicating, Louis had decided it was the perfect opportunity.

“Soph,” he asked quietly, making sure Harry didn’t hear him, “Can you come give me a hand with something in the garden?”

…….

“Eyes closed love,” Louis whispered, hands over Harry’s eyes, as he led him, as best as he could tell, through the flat and out into the garden.

It was late, and they were tipsy and sleepy, but Harry had been helpless when Louis had closed the door to Niall - last to leave - and smiled softly at him, promising him a ‘surprise I think you might like’.

He could feel the decking and then the damp grass on his bare feet, and holding his hands out to steady himself, he bumped into something. At that, Louis whispered again, “You can open your eyes now,” and took his hands away.

And  _ oh. _

He didn’t know what to say. There was their yurt, but it was illuminated in the darkness by strands of fairy lights twinkling like stars, draped all over it. He took a step forward, not really believing what he was seeing. Inside, the floor was lined with blankets and, as well as comfy pillows propped up in little piles. But the most touching thing, the thing that really got to him, in fact nearly brought tears to his eyes was the plate in the middle. On it sat a pie of all things, a pie that looked suspiciously like the one he’d brought Louis for a ‘get well’ present all those months ago. And there, poking out of the middle of it, slightly wonky, was a single candle, flame flickering in the breeze.

He dragged his eyes away from it all and turned to look at Louis, his face bathed in the soft grow of the fairy lights. “Lou, I...it’s….it’s  _ lovely _ ,” was all he could muster.

Louis was in his arms in an instant, standing on his tiptoes and looping his arms around Harry’s neck. “Do you know what day it is today love?” Louis asked, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips, a smile in his eyes.

Harry was confused, “Well, I know what day it is tomorrow, didn’t know if  _ you _ knew though?” he asked, not sure if it was the champagne that was making his thoughts so foggy.

Louis just smiled even more broadly, and tugged him down and into the yurt, arranging them so that they sat, knees bumping, with the little pie in front of them. He kissed Harry’s knuckles and soothed his fingertip across them. “Well love, tomorrow is today! It’s past midnight. So…” crawling forwards he cupped Harry’s head in his hands and kissed him gently, tipping his head back and working his way down his throat.

“Happy anniversary love,” Louis breathed the words into Harry’s skin, and let them sink in.

“Lou, this is, this is too much, and when...when did you do all this?” Harry asked, voice adoring even to his own ears.

Louis snuggled down into Harry’s lap, and laughed as he replied, “You’d be amazed what I can get done while you’re distracted love. Drunken Twister ring any bells?

“Anyway, here’s to us.  Happy six months Harry, I...”

But Harry cut him off, maneuvering him, and kissing the words right out of his mouth, “I love you Lou, so much. And thank you, I wasn’t expecting anything.”

Louis shifted and straddled him, before pushing them back gently onto the blankets and pillows, “Harry, you don’t deserve  _ anything _ , you deserve  _ everything _ …”

“Lou, I…” Harry was sober by now, but Louis, his words and his actions, they left him pretty much speechless.

“Will you let me look after you love? Just want to give you everything.” Louis asked, voice high and slightly desperate sounding as he caressed Harry’s sides and brought his hands to rest on the bare flesh below the leather trousers he was still wearing.

Harry was pretty sure that he would always say yes to Louis, but here, in the face of such an intimate and personal display of their love, he was more certain that ever, so on a shaky breath he replied, “Of course Lou, anything…” and he trailed off as Louis began to unbutton his trousers and push them off, turning him over and placing a pillow under his hips.

He couldn’t see anything, head buried into the pillow, but he could feel, could feel Louis’ hands all over him, massaging at the soft skin of his inner thighs, pushing his trousers completely off and spreading his legs wider.

For a beat there was nothing, no touch, no feeling, no nothing.

Until there was.

The flat of Louis’ tongue rasping across his rim. And it was almost too much, he tried to stay perfectly still, but Louis just kept on going. Massaging his thighs with strong hands, tonguing at his hole mercilessly. There was no pattern to it, and that made it so much  _ better, _ so much more intense. Harry gripped the blankets, and moaned out, loud enough for anyone to hear as he felt Louis press a finger in along side his tongue, as deep as it would go.

“Fuck Lou…” he whimpered, grinding his hips down into the pillows, painfully aware of how hard he was, chasing friction that was just out of reach.

He felt Louis pull his cheeks apart, and bury his face in deeper still, before he pulled out and ran his tongue up the skin between Harry’s balls, over his hole and all the way up his back in one long stripe, fingers taking over, working him over.

Louis sucked a love bite at the junction between his neck and shoulder, and it was more than he could bear, he needed more, needed to be full.

On a long, low, groan he managed to get the words out, “Fuck Lou, need you to fuck me... _ please _ ”.

…….

Louis half-ran, half-staggered, towards the house in just his tiny black briefs, cock tenting against the fabric. He was pretty sure he wasn’t cut out for romance. Why hadn’t he thought, who organises a romantic anniversary surprise - involving rimming - without coming prepared.

He’d left Harry under the blankets, slice of pie in hand, and promised he’d be as quick as he could.

And honestly, as he opened the back door, he had to laugh, only they’d find romance in pastry, and only they would be a week into a new place and already be ‘christening’ the garden.

He closed the back door, and nearly tripping over Princess, made his way into the bedroom, rummaging through his wash bag until he found the lube and condoms he’d been looking for.

He grabbed their dressing gowns and headed back out, closing the door behind him. Treading carefully, he weaved his way back towards Harry, and what he saw melted his heart, and oddly took him back to a conversation he’d had with Zayn months and months ago.

“...For once, I’m going to trust, and risk having it broken, rather than force him to earn back something he’s never done anything to lose in the first place.”

And all those months ago, he’d meant it, willed it to be that easy, but he’d still been wary. 

Now though, now he felt it in his bones, knew it in every cell of his body. As he walked closer, it was as he’d thought. Harry was sleeping soundly, snoring softly, crumbs all over him, a slice of pie plated up waiting for Louis to return.

Yeah, he knew now. After all, if he could trust him to not drunkenly eat all the pie, he could trust him with anything.

Harry was  _ his person. _

And as he blew out the little candle, and settled quietly behind Harry, pulling the covers over them, he knew one thing with more certainty that he had known he was capable of. There was nothing, nothing in this world or the next that he’d trade what they had for.

Harry was  _ his  _ person, and he was the luckiest.

…….


	20. Chapter 20

Life is made up of the little things.

That was the epiphany Harry had on a normal Wednesday morning.

Kissing in the rain, carving initials into tree trunks, expensive meals out, and showy declarations of love were the stuff of novels, fiction, and rom-coms. Harry appreciated a good love story more than most, but real life, real life with Louis was so much deeper, so much stronger. It was the little things day in and day out that really mattered. Just as there was strength in being softer, he decided there was also beauty to be found in normalcy.

Two toothbrushes in the little mug by the sink, a huge pile of their combined shoes just inside the door, a wardrobe full of clothes that belonged to both of them.

Beauty could be found anywhere, you just had to know how to look for it.

They’d lived together for a month, and each morning waking up together, each little kiss as they set off for the day, each evening cooking together, cuddling Princess together, falling asleep in each other's arms, it just got better.  He’d had such high expectations, visions of what perfect looked like. Some picture perfect image of loved-up domesticity. But those expectations, they’d were nothing compared to the reality of it all. To be loved, and loved in return for just _being_ , was nothing short of wonderful.

“Come on Princess, let’s go and make breakfast?” Harry whispered as he scooped Princess up off of the bed and into his arms, holding her like a baby. He tiptoed out of their bedroom quietly, careful not to wake Louis. He’d been propped up in bed late last night as Harry’s own eyes had drifted shut. The last image Harry had seen before he’d given in to the pull of sleep had been Louis sketching and making endless lists. The shoot Oliver had organised was only two weeks away, and he knew Louis was struggling to balance it with his shifts at Selfridges.

He sang quietly under his breath - Dancing Queen - thoroughly ear wormed into his head ever since he’d overheard Louis whistling along to it as he worked. Back popping as he reached to the back of the cupboard, he rummaged around for tea bags he knew were there somewhere and a mug and his flask, flicking the kettle on as he moved around the small, bright, plant-filled kitchen.

Princess meowed incessantly and weaved her way between his ankles before hopping up onto the work surface, headbutting his hand as he tried to pour boiling water into their mugs. He pushed her away with his spare hand, and once their tea was made, scratched between her ears and picked her up again, nuzzling his cheek into the side of her face.

“Come on then lovely, let’s get you sorted out eh?” He grabbed her box of biscuits and crouched down to fill her bowl and change her water, laughing at how quickly he was replaced in her affections by a pile of dry, boring looking biscuits.

Princess placated, he added the milk to their teas and took the little notebook off of the fridge door. He smiled softly as he wrote a little note for Louis - already a daily tradition - and snuck back into their bedroom, glad to see Louis still sleeping soundly. With that, he grabbed his flask, pressed a kiss to the top of Princesses head - who was still munching her way through her food - and let himself out, headed off to work, counting down the days to the weekend.

….

Louis pushed the duvet down around his hips and stretched, pointing his toes and pulling on the headboard as he blinked his eyes open. Bright light streamed in through the thin duck egg blue curtains, and he could tell just by the way the light filled the room that it was late. That, and the fact that Harry’s side of the bed was cold, any residual warmth long gone.

He lay there, enjoying the fact it was the weekend and he had the day off, nowhere in particular he had to be. Stifling a yawn, he rolled onto his side and smiled. There - as had become ritual - was a cup of tea, and a little note in Harry’s loopy writing.

_Morning Lou, we’re outside if you want to come and join us xx_

He was lucky in all the little ways that mattered.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, he looked at the time on his phone and grimaced, eleven o’clock. He’d known he was tired, juggling work and getting ready for the shoot. He hadn’t realised he was _that_ tired, couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a huge lie-in. Determined not to waste anymore of the weekend, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, took a sip of tea, pulled on Harry’s tracksuit bottoms and well-worn t-shirt from the floor, before going to find them.

Tea in hand, sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the late morning sun, he found them both in the garden, and again, twice in the space of half an hour, he was struck by how lucky he was. Harry was on his knees at the far end of the little garden, plaid shirt sleeves rolled up, long hair pulled up into a messy bun, old pair of skinny jeans covered in mud. And Princess, well used to the delights of outside now, was on one of the garden chairs near the house, grooming herself and sunbathing. Any doubts he’d had about letting her outside gone in that moment.

Harry hadn’t heard him come outside, too engrossed in whatever it was he was doing, so Louis walked quietly across the lawn to join him, Harry’s too long trackies trying to trip him up with every step.

A single step behind Harry he spoke, disturbing the peace and quiet, “What you doing love?”

And oops, that hadn’t gone quite to plan. Harry physically flinched and fell back on his heels, looking around, eyes wide. “Shit Lou, you scared me!”

Louis sat on the grass then, cross-legged, and held his tea out in Harry’s direction, “I’m sorry love, didn’t mean to make you jump. Erm, this is all I’ve got, a peace offering or something...Just woke up, thought I’d come and see what you were up to. You look...busy?” Louis asked as he watched Harry take his tea and gulp down a big sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of dirt behind.

“Uh, well, thought it was time to sort the garden out a bit. Went and got these while you were sleeping,” Harry gestured to the large bag of daffodil bulbs at his side, and the tray of what Louis thought were pansies.

“Just pottering about really,” Harry carried on, brushing his muddy hands on the grass, with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face.

“Something funny love?” Louis asked, “Care to share with the class?” And he pulled Harry into his arms as he spoke, not caring if he got dirt all over himself.

Harry laughed properly then, and bit his lower lip between his teeth, “Pottering Lou, as in Potter, as in Harry Potter, I’m Harry Potter-ing, get it?”

There was nothing else for it, in the face of such an awful, yet somehow endearing joke, Louis had no choice. He took Harry’s face in his hands and squeezed his cheeks between them, before placing a wet kiss to the end of his nose, “Bloody hell, good job I love you silly amounts, otherwise you’d be pottering about on your lonesome. Come on, make us another tea to make up for it yeah?”

Hand in muddy hand they walked back towards the house, _their_ house, Louis pretty sure he could tempt Harry to more than tea. The offer of a nice, hot bath on the tip of his tongue.

…..

It was almost properly summer, and with the evenings staying lighter for longer, Princess was something of a pain to tempt inside, even the lure of food only just enough to convince her.

“Princess, dinner! Dinner time!” Louis called at the back door, tapping a teaspoon on her food bowl, universal cat speak for ‘quick, come inside’. With still no sign of her, he padded out into the garden in socked-feet, tapping on the plate as he went. And there she was.

“Bloomin’ hell Princess, didn’t take you for a lazy one,” Louis tickled her under the chin as he spoke, and picked her up from her place on the garden table and carrying her inside under one arm.

He placed her down on the dining room table and plated up her wet food, putting it down on the floor next to her water bowl. After just looking at it from a distance for a second or two, Princess hopped down and started to eat. Louis normally left her in peace to eat, but this time he sat on the floor next to her and stroked down her side as she hoovered her food up.

“Has Harry been giving you too many treats sweetheart?” Louis asked, feeling a definite swell to her stomach as he stroked her. Princess was never a skinny cat, but he was also sure she hadn’t been quite so _cuddly_ before.

“Going to have to cut back on those Dreamies love, aren’t we? We’re getting you a cat flap soon, need to be able to fit through it don’t we, so you can explore while we’re at work?” No reply forthcoming, _obviously,_ Louis left her to the remains of her meal, mentally making a note to remind Harry to take it easy on the treats front.

He made himself a tea and settled on the sofa, sketchbooks and lists spread out around him, feeling in all honesty a little overwhelmed. It was only a week until the shoot and he still had so much to do. Luckily, Zayn had returned all the clothes he’d made for him before he’d left, had told Louis to look after them for him. So it wasn’t so much making more clothes, it was just a case of whittling down dozens of items into three outfits that best showcased his work. And that wasn’t easy when he was so close to it, they all had a special place in his heart, for a whole host of reasons. Still, he was set on getting it finished before Harry got home. Didn’t want another night where Harry fell asleep hours before he did. For the first time in weeks, he was determined they’d fall asleep together.

…...

He’d had a long, tiring day, Nick particularly demanding, too many clients, not enough hours in the day, and public transport that seemed hell bent on stopping him from getting to the one place he wanted to be the most. Home.

Finally though, he’d made it and he had the place to himself for a while. He’d got a text from Louis as he was walking back to their flat explaining that he had to pop into the magazine offices on the way home to pin down some of the final details of the shoot with Oliver.

After a long, lazy shower, he’d pulled on an old pair of jean shorts and a paper-thin band t-shirt, poured himself a glass of wine, and set about finding something to watch on TV. His brain felt _tired_ , felt like he needed to unwind and let something trashy tune out the remains of a stressful day.

He was channel surfing when it caught his eye. The sketchbook that had been Louis’ constant companion for the last few weeks. He didn’t normally nos, but seeing it just sitting there, he felt sentimental. It took him back, to all those months ago. Of the moment in the office where he’d first seen Louis’ designs. To the fittings at Louis’ old flat, where at the time he’d prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that gorgeous Louis, and his gorgeous, creative mind, might actually have liked him even a tenth as much as Harry had been gone for him, even in those early days. So yeah, that was why he couldn’t resist taking a look.

He ran his fingertip over the sketches a page at a time, still blown away by how Louis could create such beautiful things. How just a few scratchy pencil lines could come together, could almost come alive off the page. It wasn’t a new sketchbook, in fact the designs Louis had made for Harry were in there towards the front, recognisable even without the addition of Harry’s long hair and green eyes. As he flicked past those sketches he moved on to newer ones he didn’t recognise, and they were stunning. Louis deserved every ounce of success that Harry was sure was coming his way. Flicking on towards the back of the sketchbook, Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes prickled of their own accord.

They’d talked about it in abstract terms, but seeing it, seeing how Louis pictured them. Brought to life by his own hand. It made Harry’s heart clench with so much love he didn’t know what to do with it.

There they were, the two of them, unmistakable. Harry sketched with his long hair plaited to one side, tendrils curling around his face. And Louis, pencil lines swooping his hair up into a soft looking quiff, eyes shining bright somehow even on the flat sheet of paper. Louis had sketched them in unique, but complimentary outfits. Harry in a pale blue linen suit, navy shirt open at the neck peeking out from underneath the jacket. Louis in a dark midnight blue suit, narrow-legged, with a crisp white shirt underneath, buttoned all the way up to the neck. They both had matching copper-toned pocket squares, and corsages made up of simple green foliage as far as Harry could tell.

Hands shaking, he ran his fingertip across the lines on the page. Logically he knew what he was looking at, there was no mistaking it. Emotionally he’d never been so caught off guard in his life. The thought of Louis picturing them on their wedding day. Of feeling sure enough to pour precious time, time Harry knew he didn’t really have, into the beginning of making it a reality.

There was love, and then there was what Harry felt for Louis. He couldn’t put words to it. _Love_ felt too small, too commonplace for what they had. He didn’t think he’d ever really be able to put it into words, but he had to at least try. As he typed, hands still trembling, he hoped Louis would get what he was trying to say, what he didn’t know how to say.

I _like_ like you Lou. So much xx

……..

“So love, is Princess going to be ‘Styles-Tomlinson or Tomlinson-Styles?” Louis asked, embarrassment of Harry having found the sketches long gone. Deep, heartfelt kisses, touches, and words they both knew weren’t really enough, but were the best they could do, reassuring them both that it was absolutely what they wanted, but that there was no huge hurry to make it happen. They were building a life, a life that would span decades, there was no need to rush it. They had all the time in the word to make it just right. Just how they wanted it to be.

Harry nuzzled his way into Louis’ side as he spoke, more seriously than Louis had been expecting, running his fingers though the hair on Princesses stomach, “I don’t mind love, Princess and I will have you whichever way, we’re not fussy..”

Louis linked their fingers together and looked at their hands as he spoke, picturing each of them with a ring on their finger, “That’s...good to know. Might just have to surprise you one of these days then,” and he placed a kiss to Harry’s knuckles, wondering for the hundredth time how he got so very lucky.  

Harry spoke quietly then, brushing his lips against the shell of Louis’ ear making him shiver, “Not if I get there first Lou.”

There, in their little flat, just the three of them, Louis knew that whoever asked, however it happened, whenever it happened, the answer would always be the same. _Yes, of course, always._

…...

“Ouch,” Harry squeezed the end of his finger, a tiny speck of blood appearing. “How hard can it be Princess, Lou makes it look so easy!”

He’d been trying and failing to thread the needle on Louis’ sewing machine for a good fifteen minutes, and so far all he had to show for it were elevated stress levels, several minor injuries, and too many bits of materials that he didn’t know what to do with.

Ever since he’d seen Louis’ sketch, and even more so since they’d actually talked about it, he’d had the idea of wanting to contribute to their big day - whenever that might be. To be able to give Louis something, just a tiny something, that he’d made himself. Which was why he’d been fighting with the sewing machine, and been getting progressively more frustrated as time passed. Louis was working late, but he only had about an hour until he’d be home.

“Come on Harry, you can do it…” he spoke sternly, giving himself a pep talk, “It’s just a machine, you can do it, it’s just a pocket square, how hard can it be?”

He took a deep breath and put his glasses back on, ready to give the whole needle threading thing one more try. Concentrating hard, he held his breath, and tried to steady his hands. Never did he think that getting a piece of thread to do what he wanted would be so satisfying. “Yes! Finally! What do you say about that Princess?” Harry asked, holding her little head in his hands, “Isn’t Daddy clever?!”

He slumped back in the swivel chair for a moment, debated whether to quit while he was ahead. Closing his eyes and letting his head rest on the back of the chair, he ran his fingers over Princesses sides, and yeah, Louis was right, they were definitely giving her too many treats. Her stomach was basically round, like a little barrel, and when he opened his eyes and looked at her he could even see the difference, a swell that had most definitely not been there just a few weeks ago.

“Princess, where did that come from eh?” he asked, stroking her fur, “No more treats for you I’m afraid, don’t want you getting stuck in the catflap!”

As he looked at the time on his phone, he took a deep breath and decided that he’d keep going while he was on a roll, he took hold of the little square of fabric, and lifted the foot of the sewing machine.  With a crack of his knuckles, he muttered under his breath, “Come on Princess, we can do this, I believe in us.”

…….

Louis expectations had been on a rollercoaster ride since the day, nearly two months ago, when Oliver had offered him the opportunity. Some days he’d been so excited he could barely stay still.  Other days he’d felt so nervous he’d thought he was going to be sick. But now, in the tiny brightly-lit studio, whatever expectations he’d had going into the shoot, they were exceeded within the space of half an hour.

Ever since Uni he’d been dreaming of having a professional model wear his clothes, of a professional photographer capture his work in it’s best light. And it was happening.

“Louis, your clothes really are beautiful,’ Oliver had said as soon as he’d arrived, unzipping the outfits from their black carry cases and hanging them on the rail in the corner of the studio.

He had to mentally kick himself, to actually think of something professional to say, “Thank you, really, I appreciate the opportunity so much, and I’m glad you like them.”

Oliver patted him on the shoulder and replied, “Like them? I love them, thinking of asking you to make me a suit or two if you’re interested?”

Louis actually did stammer at that, “Of, of course, I’d be flattered. You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

He was saved from having to think of anything else to say, Oliver’s phone rang, and he apologised, “Sorry, I’m going to have to take this, my assistant will look after you today.”

With that, he was off, out of the studio, leaving Louis with the photographer, make-up artist, and stylist. Thankfully they were consummate professionals and knew exactly what they were doing, which made up for the fact that Louis - excited as he was - had no clue what a shoot entailed.

In the end, from his point of view anyway, it didn’t involve a great deal. Which was hard in and of itself, as it turned out he wasn’t great of letting go, of not being in full control. There was the odd question here or there, mainly from the stylist in terms of suggestions she had for pairing items that Louis hadn’t considered. But otherwise, they just got on with it.

And the bit he’d been most scared of - the interview - that was actually the least stressful part. It didn’t turn out to be a traditional interview at all in the end, instead, Oliver’s assistant had emailed him a dozen or so questions; about how he’d got started, who his inspirations were; what it was like trying to make it in London, and he’d spent the best part of an hour or so forming answers that he hoped were interesting, engaging, and most of all, honest.

By 3pm they were done, and as Louis packed the clothes back into their cases, chatted to Oliver’s assistant about the next steps were before publication, his phone buzzed.

_Lou! Are you done? You’ve got to come home. NOW! You’re not going to believe it!_

And then again.

_It’s nothing bad, don’t worry, we’ll see you soon!_

…….

Harry had got home even earlier than usual, Nick’s Friday afternoon shoe fix calling to him especially strongly.

He’d got in and put the kettle on, flung open the back doors to let some fresh air in, and gone to get changed. In his sloppy shorts and t-shirt, he’d heard it first. The tiniest little meow. At first he thought it was Princess, but then it happened again, again. Silently, he followed the little sounds, and it led him to the bathroom - door cracked open.

“Oh Princess!” he couldn’t believe his eyes.

There, in the bath, on top of a towel he’d thrown in there this morning was Princess, looking at him with what seemed a lot like relief. And she wasn’t on her own, as he got to his knees by the edge of the bath, he could see, one, two, three, four, tiny little newborn kittens.

He didn’t know what to do, couldn’t take it in really. But after checking them all from a distance, he could see that they were all breathing, and in fact they were all happily latched on and feeding. Princess looked tired, her eyes dropping with the effort of it all.

“Stay there Princess,” Harry whispered, “I’ll be back in a sec.”

As he got to his feet he shot Louis a text and rushed to the kitchen to get Princess a fresh bowl of water.

“You’re such a good girl Princess, “ he spoke quietly, placing the water down next to her and stroking the top of her head, “Look at what you made missus, they’re beautiful.”

He didn’t really know what to do with himself, was desperate for Louis to get home so he wouldn’t have to deal with it by himself. He was also stunned it had even happened, He didn’t want to leave them alone, but at the same time he was pretty sure he shouldn’t touch the kittens, he didn’t want to scare Princess and risk her rejecting them. In the end though, after a good few minutes Googling to make sure he wasn’t doing anything drastically wrong, he just got himself a water and sat next to the bath, chin propped on the edge, and watched the new little family.

Harry had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard the key in the door.

Hauling himself to his feet, he met Louis in the hallway with a finger over his lips, “Lou, we’ve got to be quiet. Come with me, I’ve got something to show you!”

Despite the confused look on Louis’ face, Harry took his hand and led him to the bathroom.

He turned in the doorway, and squeezed Louis’ hand in his, “Are you ready Lou?” and pushing the door open and leading them in, “I’d like you to meet our babies Lou. Princess has been busy….Say hi to Penne, Crumpet, Toasty, and Noodle Junior.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but Louis never failed to surprise him. He dropped to his knees next to the bath, and looking at Harry with tears in his eyes, “Harry, I don’t...what the...oh my God...Princess!!”

They didn’t speak for a while, they just sat there, taking it all in. He watched Louis carefully, and fell in love with him even more if that was possible. He was so gentle. He stroked Princess softly, scratching under her chin and whispering words of encouragement to her, “Love, you’ve done so well, I’m so proud of you...I’m so sorry you were on your own, but we’re here now...Your babies are so beautiful.”

Finally, Louis turned to Harry and spoke quietly, an edge of panic to his voice, "I can't believe this! I was so sure Zayn had got her spayed as a kitten, just assumed. And how did we not notice? I should have noticed. I know we've both been busy with work, but still. And what are we going to do with them all? We can't keep them!"

…….

Hours had passed, during which time Harry had calmed Louis down, and Louis had called Zayn to give him a piece of his mind. Lastly, Louis had called their vet, been talked through how to look after the kittens, and booked Princess in to have her long-overdue op as soon as possible. All of that sorted out, they managed to settle Princess and her babies into one of the large moving boxes they still had, lined it with a fresh towel and took it into the living room where she promptly feel asleep. 

As for Harry and Louis, it may as well have been them that had given birth, they were shattered. But still, they weren’t going to go to bed any time soon. They didn’t want to leave their new, fragile family alone just yet.

Louis leant his head on Harry’s shoulder, both of them propped up against the sofa, eyes drooping.

“So love, about those names….” and Louis trailed off into a soft smile as Harry kissed his way up his neck.

“What about them Lou?” Harry asked, teasing, “I think they’re perfect!”

Louis straddled Harry’s lap and tickled him as he spoke, using his full body weight to hold him down, “You do, do you eh?...Well I might have something to say about that!”

Harry squirmed and squealed, muffling the noise into Louis’ shoulder as he wriggled to get free. Finally the tickling stopped and Louis slumped on top of him, stroking his hair and murmuring into his ear. “Suppose Crumpet is quite a cute name….”

"It is Lou, it is...You know we can't keep them all though don't you?..." Harry whispered the words into Louis' neck, "I bet Gem would love one though, she's always asking after Princess, I'll call her tomorrow. And mum, I know she won't be able to say no either. We'll find them good homes...we've got time...and we _won't_ let it happen again."

Louis just nodded from his place in Harry's arms. And Harry wasn’t sure how much time passed, but soon enough he heard Louis’ breathing even out and get deeper, a soft snore on every breath.

The room gradually darkened around them, and Harry struggled to keep his own eyes open, the occasional chorus of meows not enough to keep him from drifting under.

Months and months ago, he had day dreamed of a picture-perfect life with a huge house, white picket fence, chickens and a vegetable garden.

Now though, now, as he fell asleep, squashed in a less than comfortable position by the snoring love of his life. Now, he had a beautiful, colourful poster-paint life. More tiny flat than huge house; more wheelie bins than white picket fence; a house full of kittens instead of a garden full of chickens; and the results of a cheap bag of bulbs in place of a vegetable garden. And he couldn’t be happier.

He’d take reality over fiction, poster paint over picture perfect, every time.


End file.
